


The Stars (Were Made For Us)

by tentacledicks



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disassociation, Gender Dysphoria, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/pseuds/tentacledicks
Summary: When Lena died, it would have been easy for him to lose himself to grief. Aiden knows that. If Nicky hadn't dragged him out of the pit of despair, kicking and screaming, he'd be in a much worse place now. It's hard, and he has to take things one day at a time, but it's the kind of hard that makes life worth living. He has a reason to keep going that isn't just revenge.And then something new comes to turn his world upside down.
Relationships: Aiden Pearce & Nicole Pearce, Jordi Chin/Aiden Pearce
Comments: 24
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirsparklepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsparklepants/gifts).



> A couple years ago, a friend of mine had a great idea for a fic about a super masc cis dude thinking he had cancer and then finding out he had baby instead, and I went "oh my god I have to write it" and then I wrote the first half and forgot to do anything with it.
> 
> Buuuut I found the original stuff I had written, and it was _great_ and I am absolutely going all in on it now. I'm having fun with it, and I hope you have fun with it too. <3

“—and another storm headed towards the East Coast as hurricane season heats up, this one is a doozy, folks—”

The front door banged shut behind him on whatever news program Jacks had been watching as Aiden walked his nephew down to the driveway where his sedan was idling. It was his thing right now, watching the news with rapt attention which Nicky tried to divert him back off of. She wasn’t a fan of the pundits, even if the local news was fairly safe. The Weather Channel was their usual compromise.

Jacks still wasn’t talking much, which worried him. It had been eight months since Lena died, and he wasn’t reaching out verbally to anyone but his family and his therapist. It didn’t stop him from having friends—he was texting up a storm now with the friend whose house he was going to—but Aiden wondered how school would treat him. Right after her death, everyone had handled Jacks with kid gloves, but he’d be going to middle school next year, and fifth grade now. Kids could be cruel.

And… he was hovering again. Aiden shook his head as he climbed in the driver’s seat, reminding himself that hovering didn’t help. Nobody liked a helicopter uncle.

“You excited, bud?” he asked as he pulled out of the driveway, glancing over at Jacks long enough to catch the vigorous nod.

Right after Lena’s death, he’d been in a bad place. The black abyss of his own despair and guilt had threatened to eat him, sucking him down every time he’d tried to get back up again. Moving out of Damien’s apartment had only made it easier to isolate himself, to turn his thoughts to revenge and feed into his own helpless rage.

He could have lost himself in that, but Nicky wouldn’t let him. She’d hunted down his motel room and then shown up one morning, damn near breaking his door down. Her brother wasn’t going to wallow in his own guilt, she’d told him, and then she’d dragged him back into the light, using that iron will of hers to keep him steady.

She’d made him promise not to go hunting for revenge. And for the most part, he was managing that, biting back the urge to dole out justice and vengeance in turn. They’d moved him into a little studio apartment of his own, out of that motel, and most nights he avoided looking at the obsessive conspiracy file he’d built in the days just after the crash.

He had feelers out, of course. But he wasn’t fishing the way he could be. Nicky kept him too busy for that.

There weren’t any accidents on the way to Mike’s house, though Aiden was on high alert the whole time. He couldn’t help it; driving his family around made him paranoid now. He hadn’t been able to get behind the wheel with Jacks in the car for almost half a year, not when the risk was too high. But little jaunts like this were a good way to ease himself back into it.

Mike’s mother was waiting outside on the porch for them, and she gave him a wave that he returned. Jacks bolted for the door with his bag in hand, and was greeted by the excited yells of the other boys.

“Going to be a long night for you,” Aiden called through his rolled down window. Mike’s mother laughed, cigarette bouncing between her fingers as she did.

“Oh, I’m not worried. We’ll get pizza, let them watch a couple superhero movies, and they’ll all work themselves to passing out by ten. I’m a pro, Mr. Pearce.” She took a drag, then saluted him with her free hand. “You and Nicky have a good night. She deserves it.”

“Don’t worry, we will.” He gave her another wave as he reversed out of her driveway, then turned his car back towards the liquor store. They were _absolutely_ planning on having a good night, and copious amounts of alcohol would make that easier. This had been planned for weeks now.

Lena’s birthday was tomorrow.

* * *

He stumbled into the bathroom with a laugh, ignoring Nicky’s shout of mock-outrage over the state of her kitchen. There wasn’t any soap left in the sink out there, so the bathroom was his best bet with as much chocolate as he had smeared on his hands. The oven was filled with cakes now, timer set, and the mixer was thudding away at some icing he’d started before going to wash his hands.

Maybe it was a bad idea to bake a cake for a dead girl, but Aiden was trying not to see it like that. This was for Nicky more than it was for Lena—and he’d always baked a cake the night before a birthday. Most of the time he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, and he’d always loved the look of excitement on the kids’ faces when they saw him waiting in the kitchen the next morning, presents neatly stacked next to the one thing he knew he could always do right.

It was a routine, and even if Nicky was holding up better than Jacks (or himself, to be honest), she deserved to have a chance to grieve in her own way too.

Right now, grief was taking the shape of homemade margaritas and eating cake batter.

Aiden finished washing his hands, carefully drying them on the towel hanging next to the sink, then reconsidered just _how much_ his sister had been drinking. _He_ hadn’t had more than a few bottles of beer yet, but Nicky had been going hard since he’d come back with tequila and whiskey in tow. Maybe it would be a good idea to get the aspirin out before they were both hungover, not after.

He swung open the medicine cabinet and thunked the bottle of painkillers on the sink, then paused at the sight of something else in it. There hadn’t been many occasions for him to go digging in here, but he was pretty sure that the pregnancy tests were new. And he was just tipsy enough that now felt like a good time to ask about them.

“Hey Nicky,” he called as he stepped back into the kitchen, “when were you going to tell me you got a boyfriend?”

She barked out a laugh from her spot at the kitchen table, bowl of batter in front of her and her margarita topped up. “As if! What makes you think I have a boyfriend?”

“Uh, is there another reason why you’d be stocking up?” He waved the box before thumping into the chair across from her, grabbing his beer on the way down. “Come on, what’s his name? Do I need to put the fear of big brother into him?”

“Oh my _god_ , Aiden!” Nicky groaned, plopping a heaping scoop of batter in her mouth. “I can’t believe you were going snooping!”

“Come on, you know me. I always snoop. What’s his name?” He grinned as she rolled her eyes, relaxing into the sibling banter. There wasn’t any heat in her voice, which meant she wasn’t as upset by his snooping as she was claiming to be.

“Well, for _your_ information, there isn’t any _one_ name. It’s been, uh, _six_.” She sprawled back with a smirk, then raised her glass in a cheer when Aiden let out a low whistle.

“Six? _My_ baby sister?”

“Okay, so we didn’t do anything more than _coffee_ , but it never hurts to be, y’know, prepared,” she clarified, taking a long drink from her margarita. “I just… you know, after Ryan left, I sort of got used to being lonely but then Lena died and… I think maybe I deserve more than that, you know?”

“You’re very drunk. Just coffee?” He reached across the table to steal the bowl of cake batter, getting a massive dollop on his finger.

“ _Just_ coffee.” She groaned, downing more of her drink. “There’s no spark, Aiden! I bet _you’re_ more likely to have kids than I am now.”

He choked on his brownie batter, half-laughing. There was no way that she knew, and his thing with Jordi had been fairly subdued—but he couldn’t be surprised Nicky thought he was hiding a girlfriend somewhere. No other way to explain why he’d been ‘single’ for so long.

“You don’t believe me,” Nicky said, squinting at him over the dregs of tequila still in her glass. “I can prove it, you know.”

“I believe you,” Aiden said, tipping his beer bottle back. “Really! _Just_ coffee.”

“Okay, no, no, we’re _totally_ proving this now!” Nicky slammed her margarita glass on the table with all the confidence of a long-time drinker, then hefted herself up. “Come on, you too!”

“Can you even walk?” He reached a hand out to steady her, but Nicky didn’t seem to need his help, planting her fists on her hips. There was an air of regal authority to her, drunken swaying aside—years of directing her kids and the people who worked at her catering company had given her a rock-steady ability to take charge.

“Oh, I can _walk_.” She grabbed his hand, hauling him up. Aiden went, more to keep her from overbalancing than anything else, taking the chance to wrap his arm around her waist. Thankfully, Nicky seemed willing to tolerate it, steering them both towards the living room.

“What, you’ve got your tinder conversations saved or something?” he asked, puzzled when she hauled him to a stop in front of the bathroom.

“Nooope. _You_ brought up the pregnancy test, so _I’m_ going to show you why I got them, eye-dot-ee, to _prove_ that all of my dates have been coffee and nothing more. Because men are _tragic_ , Aiden.” Nicky thumped him on the shoulder, then untangled herself from his grip. “And don’t think you’re getting off scot free too, this is a pregnancy pact now. You have to take one too.”

“Jesus christ, Nicky, I didn’t realize you were _this_ drunk.” Aiden couldn’t help but laugh, leaning against the wall and listening for the sound of her falling over. It would be his luck for his sister to crack her skull open because _he_ got her drunk.

It was good that she was trying to get out and date again. Ryan had been a shithead, through and through—maybe that was his fault, not pushing hard enough to get her to leave him, and maybe that was just a mistake Nicky had to make on her own, but Aiden had always been grateful they’d never married. Ryan never paid child support, but he also didn’t have any sort of hold over her or the kids.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d get past the coffee stage eventually. Hopefully with better guys than her ex—or _his_ ex, come to think of it. The thought of Damien touching his sister gave him chills.

Before he could follow that drunken road to ruin, Nicky yanked the bathroom door open, a negative pregnancy test held high over her head. The look of triumph on her face was a sight to behold.

“ _Your_ turn now, mister getting-some.” She dropped the test in the sink, then strutted back into the kitchen. “And make it fast! You need to check the cakes, you know I’m bad at baking.”

“You don’t know that I’m getting any,” Aiden called after her, before looking back into the bathroom. It couldn’t hurt, and just indulging her would probably make her laugh.

With a huff and a shake of his head, he pushed into the bathroom, grabbing the second test from the box. The instructions were simple, and he wasn’t so drunk that his aim was poor, it was an easy enough process. Pee on a stick, wait for it to dry, then tell his sister that it was evidence that he, too, was single for the time being… even if that was a lie.

Like hell would he ever be introducing her to Jordi, anyways. Awkward questions about how they’d met aside, seeing his sister and Jordi competing over dinner would just be _weird_. And he was pretty sure that Jordi hated kids, so Jacks was right out.

Yeah, no. His family and his sex life would stay firmly apart.

He left the test in the sink to process, heading back to the kitchen to steal the bottle of tequila from his sister. She made a wordless sound of protest, but let him take it, draping herself over the table instead. “Soooo…?” 

“Still not pregnant, still not getting any,” he said, screwing the cap back on the bottle and setting it high up enough that she couldn’t reach. “Happy?”

“Ugh, no. We need to stop being single, Aiden. Is the cake done?” The hint of hopefulness in her voice made him grin. A check in the oven showed that the cakes weren’t quite there yet, but he was pretty sure Nicky was about gone.

“Okay, well, we can work on not being single in the morning, how about that? They need another five minutes, maybe. You good to stay up, or are you thinking about laying down?” He stepped back and turned off the stand mixer. The icing was well whipped up now, creamy and smooth, perfect for any cake. They’d have to cool for at least two hours before he iced them, but that was alright, it was two hours to get his sister into bed.

“Mm. We should watch a movie, if you’re cutting me off.” Nicky pushed herself up, dragging her fingers through her hair. “Something that _isn’t_ Disney. Isn’t there a new ghost-y movie on demand right now?”

“What is it with you and horror?” He wet a towel, draped it over the mixing bowl, then waved a hand for her to go. “Yeah, sure, find your ghost movie. I’ll be there as soon as I pull the cakes out.”

She slapped him on the shoulder, then wobbled her way out to the living room. Especially after Lena died, she’d cut back on her movie nights, unwilling to risk retraumatizing Jacks with the television if he woke up from a nightmare. Nights like these, where she wasn’t alone and Jacks wasn’t in the house, were rarer than Aiden liked to admit.

He wouldn’t _enjoy_ watching a horror movie, but he could deal with it if it made his sister happy. 

“This one got a whole sixty percent on StalePopcorn!” Nicky called from the living room as he pulled the cakes out, testing them and then sliding them into the freezer. They’d cool down, and by the time the movie was over, they’d be ready to ice.

And in the meantime, he’d watch the damn movie.

* * *

“Aiden, wake up. _Aiden_.”

He groaned, the rough fabric of the couch grinding into his cheek. There was the hint of a headache teasing at his temples, and his stomach twisted as he peeled his eyes open and sat up. Nicky’s hand was cool on his shoulder—she must have woken up and just started breakfast, if the smell of bacon was any indicator.

Worry was carved into her face, tight around her eyes and digging into the lines at her mouth. He hadn’t seen her that worried since—

“What is it, is Jacks okay?” Aiden sat bolt upright, grabbing her hand. He’d lost his shirt at some point in the night, probably after he’d tucked his sister into bed, and the room was so, so cold despite the summer sun heating the air outside.

“No, no, he’s fine, it’s just—The, uh, the bathroom sink, Aiden. There’s a couple pregnancy tests?” Nicky’s voice was soft, like she was hungover too. Wouldn’t be a surprise.

He groaned, rubbing at his eyes, then dragged his hand over the stubble at his jaw. “Yeah, uh, last night. We were both drunk, and you told me that it was how you were planning on proving you were single.”

“I took both of them?” The tension in her voice kicked up a notch.

Waving his hands reassuringly, Aiden did his best to calm her down. “No, you did one, then told me to take the other. Look, Nicky, I can buy you some more, that’s fine—”

“Aiden, one of the tests came back positive.”

That stopped him dead in his tracks. Nicky might have been blackout drunk, but he certainly hadn’t been. The test she’d left in the sink was negative, he _remembered_ that. Which meant that his was…

“They’re probably not meant for men is all,” he said after a long moment, swallowing carefully and rubbing over his jaw again. Now that he was awake, he could see his shirt draped over the coffee table, well within reach.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, that makes sense.” Nicky rubbed his arm, then grimaced. “Sorry for waking you up like that. I saw it and I panicked. If I make you eggs sunny-side up, will you forgive me?”

“I think I’m legally obliged to forgive you for sunny-side up eggs.” He gave her a warm smile, and she squeezed his arm again before standing and walking back to the kitchen. There was an uneasy tightness in his chest now, so he grabbed his shirt, grabbed his smokes, then stepped out on the front porch.

The thought was nagging at him though. It probably _was_ nothing, because they’d both been drunk and god only knew how that would affect whatever it was testing. Estrogen, right? It would be testing that. He’d read somewhere once that there was tons of that in the water these days. There was no way it really _meant_ anything.

His phone was on forty percent battery, no calls from Jacks, two texts from Jordi to meet up later that week to talk about leads (none) and dinner (his house), and the internet app sitting at his thumb, taunting him. One Nudle search and he’d be able to stop worrying about it. He’d be fine.

Fifteen minutes later, Nicky walked out with his plate and a frown on her face. He’d gone through four cigarettes, all of them ground into the wood of the porch, a fifth between his fingers as he jammed his thumb against his temple to ward off his stress headache. It didn’t matter how many searches he ran, the results kept coming back _bad_.

She sat down next to him, plate in her lap, and stretched out her legs. Aiden stubbed his cigarette out before leaning over, pressing his side into hers. His free hand snuck out to steal a slice of bacon, Nicky snorting softly as he did.

“That bad?” she asked, voice soft. No one was around to overhear them anyways.

“Not good, at least. I’ll call a doctor and set up an appointment before I decide it’s all bad. We might be blowing things out of proportion. The internet is great at that.” Aiden stole another piece of bacon, then the whole plate when Nicky let him have it.

“But it’s not _immediately_ bad?” With her hands empty now, Nicky didn’t have anything to do but rub her thighs anxiously. “Like, it’s nothing you need to go to the hospital over. That would be too much, right?”

A surge of guilt hit him, overwhelming the taste of eggs and bacon. He forced himself to swallow his mouthful of food anyways, then shifted to wrap his arm around Nicky’s shoulders. He could have waited to look it up until after he was home, there wasn’t any point in scaring her—or himself.

“It’s nothing I need to go to the hospital over, I’m sure,” he said gently, tucking her head into his shoulder.

“Rough year for us.” Nicky stole his last slice of bacon, watching her neighbors across the street pile into their SUV to drive off somewhere. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, Nicky. I’m gonna be okay.” He rubbed his hand down her side, setting his plate away and hugging her tight. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Those things mess up all the time, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course they do.”

* * *

Eight days later, he was sitting in the comfortably sterile waiting room of a doctor’s office. All of the chairs were that kind of black plastic that was infinitely easy to wipe down, the cushions all green-blue houndstooth patterns. It was pretty early in the day, or so he’d thought when he’d made a ten o’clock appointment, but the room was already nearly full anyways—a few parents, a businesswoman who had to be taking her lunch early, some older folks.

He’d checked in about twenty minutes ago, uncomfortable with the prospect of using his real name but unable to get away from it. His clothes were nondescript, a sweater and some jeans, but he felt out of place all the same.

Hospitals did that to him.

Maybe it was all the people he’d put in them over the years, or maybe it was the lingering effects of standing next to Nicky when their mother had finally died in one, but he’d always felt uncomfortable. On high alert, but with nothing to alert _to_. He always felt like he was under the same level of scrutiny as a felon in a police station. Doctors always had so many things to judge him on, from his smoking, to his drinking, to his eating habits, to… whatever the hell they wanted to fuss over this time.

Jordi had been fussy too, last time Aiden had seen him. Well, bitchy, more like. Annoyed by how preoccupied Aiden was, with no target to really direct it at. They’d rubbed each other the wrong way for two hours, and then finally got their shit together and rubbed the _right_ way for the rest of the evening.

It’d gotten his mind off things for a bit, at least. Until the next time he’d showered, and run through all the diagnostic criteria he could think of for himself.

“Aiden?”

He snapped out of his anxious reverie and stood, heading back with the nurse that called him. She gave him a warm, professional smile and directed him to the scale, then led him to an empty exam room and shut the door behind him.

So now he didn’t even have the distraction of other patients. That was great.

The selection of things Nudle claimed he could have wrong with him pretty much all revolved around cancer or some kind of sexual malfunction. Cancer ranked the highest, which was bad, and testicular cancer the highest of all the potentials, which was worse. The few _non-_ cancerous possibilities were all transgender exclusive, he figured. No other way a man could run positive.

Assuming the test wasn’t wrong—which is what he was here to confirm—he was looking at cancer. Aiden had always figured lung cancer would take him out if a bullet didn’t but, well. He supposed it wouldn’t be ironic enough.

Did they have to keep these rooms so cold?

His fingers were tight on the paper draped over the exam table, and he jolted a little in surprise when the door swung open. The nurse walking in was a slender young man, wearing scrubs that were patterned in some bright design from a comic series he couldn’t recall off the top of his head. Cute kid. Looked fresh enough to have come out of highschool, even if Aiden was pretty sure he was closer to his own age than that.

They went through the initial checks—high blood pressure on the edge of normal, though the nurse’s rueful smile told him that wasn’t out of line with his pulse—and then came the question he really, truly, did not want to answer.

“So what brings you in today, Mr. Pearce?”

The sick, anxious feeling rose with his gorge, but Aiden ignored it like he’d learned to ignore a lot of things. The last time he’d been in a hospital room, it’d been just after the accident with a concussion and broken ankle. This time wasn’t making him feel any better.

“I, uh, got drunk at my sister’s last week and took one of her pregnancy tests as a joke. It came back positive.” The back of his neck heated, shame or embarrassment both, and he rubbed at it. “Looking it up online brought back some scary things, so…”

The nurse made a sympathetic noise. “That’s understandable. We can order a blood test to check again for you, and then go from there. Let me note that in your chart, and the doctor will be in in a few minutes.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He leaned back as the nurse left, blowing out a heavy sigh. More waiting, which was always the worst part. Waiting and waiting and waiting in the sterile confines of a doctor’s office.

If he took a blood test, what would show up on it? There were a few bottles of prescription medication that didn’t belong to him in his apartment, but not many. Non-opiate painkillers, adderall, more sleep medication than he knew what to do with. How many of those would stay in his bloodstream long enough to matter?

They probably wouldn’t test for that anyways. It wasn’t like he’d come in here obviously high, and he’d stopped using as often once summer hit and Nicky needed him to be around for Jacks. Between his family and Jordi, he was barely at his own apartment these days.

He hated hospitals. He _hated_ hospitals. His knee bounced as he tried to obey the signs telling him not to look at his phone, just for the time (and maybe the level of security in the hospital, just to see if they had their own internal network or if they’d been stupid enough to sign up to ctOS’s bullshit, just to see if they really kept their records sealed, just in case—)

The door swung open again and Aiden’s leg stopped moving. He’d gotten an appointment with the first general practitioner with an available time slot, because he’d never bothered to do yearly checkups. She was a no-nonsense looking woman with dusty red hair pulled back into a tightly curled bun. It only took her a few minutes to review his chart before she swung her chair towards him.

“Tell me why you’re here.”

In theory, he understood that this was a way to make sure that every medical professional was able to assess his situation with clean eyes. In practice, it made him feel invisible and ignored, another annoyance for an overworked doctor who didn’t give a shit about him. Aiden squashed that feeling, taking two steps out of his own head and away from his own feelings, before talking.

“I took a pregnancy test as a joke and it came back positive. Nudle said it might be testicular cancer, so I wanted to get a professional opinion.” His voice was even this time, the tremor in it from earlier gone.

“Have you noticed any irregularities? Difficulty peeing, pain, odd lumps or redness?” She turned back to the computer to start typing, her words crisp and professional.

“Nothing else. I wouldn’t have thought it was anything big, but I looked it up, so… I haven’t noticed anything on the symptoms list.” Nothing that couldn’t be written off as anxiety, at least. He was pretty sure an uneasy stomach wasn’t a sign of cancer.

“Mm, alright. I’m scheduling you a blood test in our outpatient lab in the other building—if you go down two floors and across the bridge, you’ll be in the right place. Once they’ve sent me back your results and I’ve had a chance to look over them, we’ll schedule any imaging we need from there. If it _is_ cancer, you’ve caught it fairly early, and we have a robust oncology team here.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and then she was standing again. “The nurse will run through our plan of action with you, and then you can check out.”

He blinked, taken aback by how quickly she was moving. “Uh. Alright.”

She gave him a sharp, reassuring smile, then left the room just as briskly as she’d arrived. It was like she’d sucked the air out of the room with her, leaving it emptier than before. Aiden felt more like a ghost inconveniently occupying space than anything else. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

The cute nurse returned a minute later, running through a checklist of things to discuss. Aiden answered automatically in affirmative to everything that sounded appropriate, then stood to leave with the same feeling of being two steps outside of himself.

Go to the checkout desk.

Get the order for the bloodwork.

Pay for the appointment.

Head to the elevators.

He went through the motions like he was in a dream, trying not to panic about—about everything. The hospital, the nausea that wouldn’t go away, the fact that the doctors hadn’t dismissed him as catastrophizing, the tight interior of the elevators in this building, the open windows of the bridge between buildings—all of it was too much at once, distinct impressions of settings coming in snapshots. Like a video that was stuttering because it hadn’t been given enough time to buffer.

That’s what his head felt like right now. Not enough time to buffer.

The lab was more sterile and less comfortable than the doctor’s office, but twice as crowded—almost every seat had someone, and there were three people in line to check in before him. At least the check in process was quick, and the lab was pulling people in at a brisk pace. He found a spot to sit until his name was called, knee bouncing frantically the moment he was down.

Nicky would want to know, whenever the bloodwork came in. He should probably call her and let her know that he’d gone to an appointment in the first place. Jacks… he wouldn’t tell Jacks until it became absolutely necessary. His nephew didn’t deserve that kind of stress.

And Jordi—

He wasn’t going to think about how to tell Jordi, yet.

They called him back, and he went. The blood draw was fast and easy, the technicians sending it off and him with it. Between one moment and the next, he went from standing outside the labs to the middle of the parking garage, with no memory of the journey between.

Aiden needed a distraction. He wasn’t far enough out of his head yet. He needed—

* * *

“Hey, are you paying attention to me?” Jordi’s voice broke through his thoughts, rough and irritated.

Aiden opened his eyes as he rolled his hips down, focusing on Jordi’s pissed off face underneath him. The hands on his thighs were tight enough to bruise, tension making Jordi’s muscles hard as rocks, but he really couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about that—as angry as Jordi was, his cock was still rigid in Aiden’s ass, and he wasn’t angry enough to stop thrusting.

“Yeah, Jordi, I’m paying attention to you,” Aiden said, licking his lips and rolling his hips again. His breath caught on a groan, an answering rumble vibrating through the taut muscles under his hands.

“Really? Because it doesn’t fuckin’ feel like it. If I wanted to fuck a fleshlight, I’ve _got_ like, three, you know.” Jordi’s hands slid higher, tightening on his hips and dragging a soft moan out of him.

“Why the hell do you have, nnh, three fleshlights?” Hard to think when Jordi’s cock felt so good in him. Finding out that there was a fighter’s body underneath that suit had been the best discovery Aiden had ever made. The only thing that came close was the discovery that Jordi wanted to put that body on _his_.

“For when I get lonely. Like I’m feeling now, because you aren’t paying attention to me.” For all that Jordi was professing loneliness, his hips were rolling up hard and fast, his voice tight.

Aiden moaned instead of answering, squeezing his eyes shut as he rocked down into the movement. The lightning sparking through his spine and low into his gut shot through him, building tension in his muscles until he grabbed Jordi’s shoulders and gasped his name. His back arched, Jordi’s nails biting into his ass, and an answering groan came from underneath him as Jordi came too.

He relished the bliss suffusing his limbs, palms flattening down Jordi’s chest as he relaxed. Jordi’s hands softened, trailing over his skin adoringly instead of digging in to bruise, rough calluses tender on Aiden’s thighs.

With a soft groan, Aiden pulled off of his cock, flopping on the bed next to Jordi and rolling to mash his face into the other man’s neck. There was come smeared across his own stomach and more between his asscheeks, as much evidence of Jordi’s presence as the faint bruising on his thighs. This was exactly what he’d needed when he came here.

“Alright, but seriously,” Jordi said, hand sliding up Aiden’s back to bury itself in his hair, “what’s up with you? Seems like every time I see you, you’re head’s in the fucking clouds these days.”

Aiden grunted rather than answering outright, trying to hold onto the warm afterglow instead of letting everything get to him but—too late. He really couldn’t have expected to go more than a few minutes without thinking about it.

The blood tests had come back with high levels of HCG—same thing the pregnancy tests measured, apparently. He had an ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow, to check for tumors. The doctor had been serious over the phone, but cautioned him not to panic since it was still possible he’d caught it early—but. Panicking. Sort of a thing he couldn’t control.

He’d told Nicky, and she’d agreed to keep it from Jacks for now. As cancers went, this one was about as survivable as they got; with luck, Jack would never need to find out. And if Aiden was down his last nut, well, there were worse things than living without his balls.

But that’s where Jordi came in. Because he couldn’t tell if he should tell him now or not. Would Jordi care? About any of it? The cancer, the possible surgery, any complications that could come from it all?

They’d gone exclusive two months back, after Jordi had gotten the all clear on his latest round of STD tests. It meant the condoms had come off, and it also meant that Aiden had started spending a lot more time at Jordi’s condo than anywhere else. He wasn’t taking as many jobs now, not unless they were favors to Jordi, and that meant he had a lot of free time.

He was looking for Lena’s killer. He was. But cancer had a way of shifting his perspective on things like that.

Nicky had asked him to stop, so he had—for the most part. But his body was putting the final nail in his niece’s coffin, doing it’s best to keep him from getting revenge for her. Maybe he should have felt more guilty about that, about not doing _enough_ , but now he was just… tired. And still not sure what he should tell Jordi.

So he elected to tell him nothing, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Jordi’s neck instead. “Family shit is all. Lena’s birthday was a couple weeks ago.”

“Ahhhhh, _family_ shit. Well, I’ve stopped caring, so don’t worry about telling me more.” Jordi tugged at a lock of Aiden’s hair, legs shifting on the sheets. “You know, if you want me to start looking at putting out feelers again, I can offer you a discounted rate.”

A month ago, it would have been tempting, damn any promises he’d made. But now the thought just exhausted him further. There was no guarantee he’d be in a good spot to act on any information if it _did_ come in—god forbid he had to go through a round of chemo or something too.

“I know. If I get the urge, I’ll tell you.” Aiden sighed and tucked himself closer, flattening his hand over Jordi’s stomach. He didn’t think Jordi would _care_ about a ‘very survivable’ cancer, but Jordi’s condo was becoming something of a safe haven anyways. Aside from the distraction on offer, it was the only place he could eat without feeling nauseous these days.

Anxiety, probably. Another symptom, if he wanted to listen to the paranoia twinging the back of his head.

“You’re such an indecisive bitch sometimes, you know that? Tell me what you want for dinner. You’re staying the night.” Jordi’s voice was fond—indulgent, even. He’d been _less_ indulgent when Aiden had asked him to stop looking a few months back, but since that hadn’t included cutting contact, it seemed Jordi had forgiven him.

“I didn’t bother looking in your fridge before trying to jump your bones,” Aiden said dryly, not bothering to contest the assertion he was staying. “Whatever you were planning is fine, unless it’s pork. I’m not feeling up to pork right now.”

The hand in his hair stilled for a second, then took up the lazy petting again. Jordi didn’t ask. “You just live to ruin my plans. I’ve got a couple fillets of salmon I wanted to cook, so if you’ve got no objections to that and spinach…?”

“I’ve got no objections.” His lips crooked up in a half-smile as Jordi scratched the back of his head in approval.

“Alright, that works. I’ve got some garlic and lemon too, so I can…” Jordi trailed off into soft mutters, his fingers rubbing and tapping as he planned out dinner. Aiden kept his eyes shut, matching his breathing to the steady rise and fall of Jordi’s chest, and tried to drift again. One way or another, tomorrow would change things. He just needed to keep his head empty until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that human bodies are terrible and you can do so many terrible things to them? Because I do now. This is not a magic mpreg fic and it's not an assbaby fic either, which means I am absolutely going to go all in on horrifying medical possibilities with this.


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean ‘you couldn’t find anything on the scans’?” Aiden leaned back against his kitchen counter, staring at the pot of spaghetti noodles boiling on the stove. He’d given up on his usual standbys of pizza and takeout—half the time he couldn’t even get it into his mouth, much less keep it down, but lightly seasoned noodles seemed to be working for now. Sooner or later, he’d have to fix his protein problem.

“We couldn’t see any evidence of tumors on your remaining testicle, Mr. Pearce.” The nurse’s voice was soothing over the phone, but not familiar—this had to be one of the ones in the oncology department, since most of his shit had been transferred over there after the blood test came back. “There’s nothing in your records about having had surgery before—did only one drop?”

“Uh, yeah. How can there not be anything on the scans?” He rubbed at the spot between his eyes, trying to ward off the headache that wanted to build there. None of this made sense.

“It’s possible that there’s something we missed. It’s also possible that you have a second testicle that never dropped, and that could be the problem—it’s not unheard of in men, and internal testes are at a higher risk for cancer. We’d like to schedule you for a second blood test and an abdominal ultrasound.”

The headache was no longer threatening, it was engaging in full on assault. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to ignore the rise of nausea and sick anxiety in his chest. His finances weren’t hurting—yet—but he would have to ask Jordi for a few more jobs if this kept up. Tests and tests and _more_ tests just to get told ‘we don’t know what’s wrong’.

His jaw ached in a dangerous way, and Aiden swallowed hard before saying, “Uh, sure, what days?”

“We’ll mail you the form for the blood test, but any day in the next week would be fine. For the abdominal ultrasound we have… Would July twenty-first at eleven AM be acceptable, Mr. Pearce?”

“Mhm, yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there.” He waited just long enough to hear the nurse’s affirmative, then hung up and whipped around, bending over the sink as he gagged.

There wasn’t a lot of food in his stomach, but it all came up. Aiden heaved for a few seconds, then hunched over further as another wave of nausea hit him, gorge rising all over again. It wouldn’t stop happening, wave after wave, until he was shaking and gagging, tears running down his face.

Fuck. _Fuck_. Something was wrong, and he _knew_ it, but the ultrasound was over a week away. How the hell was he supposed to keep going with that looming uncertainty hovering over him? How was he supposed to go to his sister’s house and smile at his nephew like everything was okay when it _wasn’t_?

Still shaking, he straightened and turned the water on, wetting the hand towel tucked over a cabinet door. The cold water felt good on his face and the back of his neck as he slapped the towel over his shoulders. He turned the stove off, grabbing a strainer and setting it in the clean side of the sink, then poured the noodles into it.

Culinary duties done, he sat down on the cold tile, resting his back against the glass face of his oven. The shakes weren’t stopping, his hands trembling with adrenaline and stress, and the cold towel was starting to warm.

Everything kept going wrong.

Aiden dragged his fingers through his hair, catching the sweat on his scalp and smearing it across the rough grain of the towel. The tears on his face had dried, but his eyes still burned like coals set smoldering in his skull, his throat lined with acid to match. This wasn’t the first time he’d thrown up while trying to fix himself something to eat recently, but it had been the worst one yet.

God, what if it got worse?

“Fuck _me_ ,” he whispered hoarsely, grabbing his phone off the ground and dialing Nicky. She’d asked him to tell her when his results came in, and he was going to keep that promise.

“Aiden?” Her voice was worried, but with an edge to it that told him Jacks was still in the room. They tried not to talk about anything serious around him if it wasn’t something they wanted to share.

This wasn’t something he wanted to share. “Hey, Nicky. I was just calling to see how you guys were holding up without me around to hunt dinner for you.”

“Well, your strong, manly, pizza-strangling arms weren’t needed. I made lasagna.” Some worry still there, but she was playing along. That was good.

“I guess I’ll put the spear away until next time, huh?” He swallowed and thunked his head back gently, eyes shut tight against the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting. “Can you, uh, give me a call back later tonight? After Jacks is in bed.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course, Aiden, I can do that. You sure you don’t want to come over for dinner?”

Nausea threatened to overtake him again, but Aiden managed to ride it out with careful, calculated breaths. “No, I’m alright. Just give me a call.”

“Alright. I love you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He hung up, then pressed the screen of his phone against his forehead, taking what little chill he could get from that. He’d get up to eat eventually. He just needed to rest for a second.

Just a second. He’d be okay.

* * *

The hospital loomed, as menacing and uncomfortable as it had been the first time. He pulled into the parking garage behind an SUV, his own sedan tiny in comparison. The registration would need to be renewed next year, if he didn’t trade it in. It had just barely managed to avoid being totaled, but he hated it a little, hated the way his hands grew clammy on the wheel every time he passed under a bridge or drove into a tunnel.

Like the last time, he drove up to the second highest floor, where the spaces were much easier to find, and parked next to the fire escape. It was a bit of a trek to the elevators, but it was worth it for the security of being able to bolt in an instant. Old habits died hard.

He took the elevator down to the bridge that led into the building, then took an elevator back down _again_ there to get to the labs. The radiology department wasn’t too crowded, most of the chairs empty, but he knew they were rolling in people on hospital beds through other hallways. He’d watched it happen, last time he was here.

The nurse at the desk smiled at him as she checked him in. His timing was fantastic—only a few minutes later, she was leading him back to a room.

There was a curtain tugged around a bed and a hospital gown neatly folded on top of the sheets along with a pair of bags for his clothes. He sighed, but pulled his shirt off once the curtain closed behind him, folding it carefully. His shoes came off next, socks shoved into them and both into the second bag, then his pants and underwear. He pushed his clothes into the first bag, then carefully set his phone and wallet on top.

His tactical baton and gun were locked firmly in the car. That was the other thing he hated about coming to the hospital—he was completely defenseless, no weapons other than the body that was working against him right now, and it wasn’t worth the risk to bring anything in. His phone was pushing it, but at least none of the doctors would be able to unlock it and access the ctOS profiler he’d built in bits and pieces over the last year.

Once the bags were stowed neatly under the bed, he pulled the gown on and sat down, swinging his legs up and leaning back. The low background noise of nausea was a constant for him now, briefly kicking up when he’d first come in and settling down again now that he was on his back. Despite the struggles he’d been having with food, his stomach was softer than he’d like—he might have been puking up half his meals, but the stress had him too worked up to properly work out. Didn’t want to explain to everyone else in the gym why the sickly-sweet taste of gatorade made him throw up in the men’s bathroom.

He needed this ultrasound to come back with something. He needed answers, something to fill the void of uncertainty that made him sick to the stomach every morning he woke up and remembered he had goddamn _cancer_.

It wasn’t long before a nurse came over to run through his scheduled procedure with him, carting a computer with him that held Aiden’s medical records, paltry though they were. Lucky him.

“So we’re going to be doing an abdominal external ultrasound today, and if that doesn’t give us anything, we’re going to schedule you for an endoscopic ultrasound. Sometimes things that don’t show up on one will show up on another.” His scrubs were blandly green, boring and neat.

“And if nothing shows up on either?” Aiden asked, already dreading the answer.

“An MRI. There’s _something_ going on, so we want to try and find out what. The last thing we want is for you to go without proper care.” He gave Aiden a reassuring smile, cheek dimpling a little. “You probably just caught it early, which is why we’re having trouble spotting it.”

“Uh-huh.” His stomach was twisting again. Maybe he should have given in and chugged anti-nausea medication before coming in.

“The radiologist will be here in a few minutes, and then we’ll get you on your way, Aiden.” With another quick smile, the nurse left him there behind the curtain, staring at the gentle folds in its pristine cloth. He wasn’t sure if he liked the first-name basis most of the hospital nurses had in person. But the other option was _Mr. Pearce_ , which was something that always made him think of Chicago South Club thugs wielding tire irons in dark alleys.

The radiology department had a constant soft murmur of sound beyond his room, doctors and patients and all the imaging machines. It was better than silence, but it made him feel claustrophobic all the same.

After the accident, he’d only stayed in the ER for a few hours, just long enough to get his concussion checked out and his ankle x-rayed. Before then, it had been Lena’s birth—Ryan, shithead that he was, hadn’t been there for that—and his mother’s death. He’d had a chance to visit Jacks in the hospital as a baby, but hadn’t stuck around.

God, he’d spent more time in hospitals in the last two months than he ever had before now.

The radiologist walked in before he could follow that path down to a more morbid conclusion, a blonde woman with surprisingly rosy cheeks and none of the brusque attitudes of the GP he’d seen. Maybe she had more time to spare for empathy.

“Alright, Aiden?” When he nodded, she gave him a sympathetic smile. “Did the nurse explain what we’d be doing today?”

“Yeah, an ultrasound, right?” He shifted on the bed, eyeing the gloves she was pulling on with annoyance. Hopefully the gel wouldn’t be _cold_ this time.

“Yep, I’m going to be imaging your abdomen, starting in the pelvic area moving up, looking for that lost testicle of yours.” The sheets were flipped up over his lap to keep him just barely decent as she moved his gown up too, leaving the stretch of his stomach exposed for the gel. It was warm, thank god. “Anything I see, I’ll send on to your doctor, and they’ll explain the results to you. If we do have other tests, we’ll tell you once we’re done with this.”

“How long is this going to take?” He tipped his head back, more willing to look at the ceiling than the screen. Just because he wanted to know something _was_ happening didn’t mean he wanted to _see_ it.

“Maybe thirty minutes.” The light pressure of the wand pushed into his hip, and he closed his eyes. “With any luck, we’ll have you out of here in time for lunch.”

Aiden wasn’t sure if this was a ‘no news is good news’ situation, if the quiet thoughtfulness was a sign that he was riddled with cancer or if there wasn’t anything on the scans at all. He didn’t want to strike up conversation though and did his level best to try to forget he was here at all.

It worked better than he expected, because it felt like seconds later the radiologist was standing up. He cracked open an eye, then started to sit up at the faint frown on her face. “What? Did you see something?”

“Yes,” she said, looking troubled. “I saw something very odd. Have you ever had any reproductive issues before now?”

That… was not a comforting line of questioning. Aiden felt the back of his neck heat, because he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. “It’s never come up. I, uh, don’t have sex with… women…”

Her attention focused in on him hard, the thoughtful look in her eye turning certain. “With other men?”

“Yeah,” he said, wishing the bed would open up and swallow him whole.

“Give me a second to call a couple other specialists, and then I’ll be right back.” With nothing but that little cryptic remark, she strode out of the room. It was the least reassuring thing he’d ever heard.

Aiden sat up, then looked at the screen on the ultrasound machine. It wasn’t showing anything now, but she had to have seen _something_. He hadn’t been paying any attention. Why hadn’t he been paying any attention?

Before he could start beating himself up over that, she was back, sitting down at the machine again. The anxiety must have been written clear on his face, because she motioned for him to lay down again and turned the screen towards him. “Do you want to see?”

“Uh, yeah?” The ‘no shit’ was clear enough, he hoped.

She ran the wand over his stomach, and within a few passes, the image on the screen was clear. He squinted, trying to figure out why it was familiar—it didn’t match any of the images he’d seen on nudle image search for cancer, but it did look like—

“I already called an obstetrician, but I’m going to pass this on to the oncology department too. We’re going to keep you for a bit longer, okay? This is a little more complicated than we feel comfortable with you walking out on.”

“Right,” Aiden said, staring at the image of his baby on the monitor.

* * *

“Wait, _what_? Aiden, do you not have health insurance?!” Nicky’s voice was quiet enough in the phone speaker that he didn’t think anyone had overheard, but Aiden still winced. It’s not like the nurses would _care_. He hoped they wouldn’t care.

“Listen—I mean, _no_ , I don’t, but I was going to figure something out if it was cancer—I just don’t know what they do if they keep you overnight and you can’t afford it!” Aiden hissed the words into his cellphone as quietly as he could.

There was an IV line in his arm now, because apparently he was something of a special case. They wanted to try and investigate further, to see how the hell this had happened, because neither the doctors nor Aiden could figure out _how_ the baby had ended up inside of him.

He didn’t have insurance on file, so he didn’t have a private room, but right now he was lucky enough to not have a neighbor either. That… would probably change. And he hadn’t brought anything to the hospital but his wallet and his gun, so he had nothing to do.

“How can you not have health insurance?! Aiden, this is _exactly_ why they’re making it a law to have it, you know that right?” Oh, good, and now Nicky was mad at him. This day was going wonderfully. “What are they even keeping you _for?_ Is it cancer? Are you _dying?!_ ”

“No, no, Nicky, I’m not _dying_ ,” he said hastily, trying to cut her panic attack off. “I’m just, uh… I’m pregnant?”

“ _WHAT?!_ ”

Aiden jerked his head back with a wince, then pulled the phone up to his ear again. “I know! I know, it sounds like a joke, but it isn’t, and I’m—look, they want to keep me overnight because they have a couple tests they want to run and they’re trying to look into how this happened. Can you bring me a phone charger?”

“Oh my god, are you serious? You’re for real serious? What the hell, Aiden? How did you end up _pregnant?_ ” His sister sounded as hysterical as he felt right now, which wasn’t nearly as comforting as it could be.

“That is what the doctors are trying to figure _out_ , Nicky. Listen, I just need my charger, okay? I don’t know how much longer my phone will have battery for, and I don’t want to be stuck here with nothing to do.” He glanced at the door to his room, then lowered his voice again. “And I want to see you. You know I hate hospitals.”

“I need to find someone to watch Jacks first, and then I’ll head over. Just—Just hang tight, I cannot _believe_ this is happening right now.” Nicky’s voice grew more distracted, and he heard her call for Jacks right before hanging up.

God, there was another conversation he wasn’t remotely ready to have. ‘Hey Jacks, it’s me, your uncle, and I’m pregnant, because men can get pregnant now apparently.’ Every biology class he’d have from that point on would sound fake. And that was without touching the conversation he’d have to have with _both_ of them where he admitted he was gay—Aiden had spent the last thirty years of his life closeted and fine with it. He didn’t want that status quo to change.

He didn’t want their opinions of him to change. If either of them looked at him with that special blend of disgust and pity he knew too well, Aiden didn’t know what he’d do.

With a sigh, he flopped back against the bed again. The back was cranked forward so he could sit up without any effort and the sheets were laid across his legs in a futile effort to keep him warm. The hospital was frigid, even in the middle of summer. Probably good for staving off infections, but it made staying there uncomfortable as hell.

He dragged a hand over his face, feeling the rough grain of stubble on his hand, and looked down at his phone. A text from Jordi, sitting unanswered in his notification tray, worked as a reminder of the _other_ person he had to talk to. And that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have either.

Maybe, if he just kept pretending like this wasn’t happening, it would _stop_ happening. Maybe he could ignore it and it would go away.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

The longer he was stuck here in this bed, the less happy he was about it. The IV was keeping him from getting up and meandering off, or just leaving for that matter, and he hated the restriction. At least there was a bathroom in his room instead of just a bedpan.

He let his hand flop into his lap, phone sliding out of his fingers. None of it seemed _real_ , in a different way than it’d felt unreal when he’d thought it was cancer. Cancer was believable, only bizarre because he’d expected to die to something much more violent. But a baby? That sounded more like a practical joke.

But there weren’t any hidden cameras or tv show hosts hiding behind the curtains—he’d checked. The imaging machines had seemed real enough too, though he wasn’t as experienced with those. Somehow this was supposed to be real, and he was supposed to believe it and… what? Realize that things he’d known about himself for _years_ weren’t actually real after all?

Aiden shifted his hand, pressing his palm against his stomach, the thin fabric of the hospital gown the only thing that separated him from skin on skin. He had a baby, against all reason and sense.

It didn't feel real. He wasn’t sure when it _would_.

He laid there, idly rubbing his thumb in circles, until there was a knock at his doorway. It was Nicky, looking a little flushed and out of breath, her purse slung over one shoulder and his phone charger in her hand. With a sigh of relief, she walked over the bed, dumping her purse between his legs and sitting down next to him.

“Okay, so,” she said, plugging the charger into the wall, “start from the beginning and explain this to me.”

“Uh, remember when I said the first ultrasound didn’t come back with anything?” Aiden handed her his phone, then continued when she nodded, “I was coming back in for another one. Abdominal. Apparently testicular cancer isn’t the only kind that can show up on that blood test, it’s just the most common, and I only have one testicle to begin with.”

“But it’s _not_ cancer.” It was a question, even if it didn’t sound like one. He could see the worry in her eyes, in the twist of her lips and the crease of her brow. Nice to know that she was as scared as he was.

“No. No, it’s not cancer. It, uh, it was going normally, and then the radiologist asked me about my sex life and ran off to find an obstetrician or… something. The oncologist I’ve been talking to came in about twenty minutes before I called you and said they’d do a couple more tests just in case, but he didn’t think I had cancer with the other… evidence… involved. So they’re on standby for now.”

“Well. Shit.” She flopped her head back, staring at the ceiling. 

Aiden made a noise of agreement, then reached for her hand. She gave it to him willingly, her thin, delicate fingers hard against his, her grip tight. Nicky had hands that were designed for ring advertisements with all the strength of a fighter behind them. She was built like their mom, but she had their dad’s spirit. Sometimes, he wondered if their dad would’ve ever looked at her the way he’d looked at Aiden near the end. Nicky had always been his favorite.

And boy, would his dad have had _things_ to say about this.

He tried not to think about that. Tried not to think of what their _mother_ would have thought too—she’d never approved of his career path, and approved even less of the hints about his sexuality. It didn’t matter, because she was dead, and he missed her but… It was for the best that the only family he had to see him like this was Nicky.

His fingers flexed against hers, but before he could voice any of that, there was another knock at the doorway. Aiden looked over, Nicky straightening beside him, as two doctors came in. He didn’t recognize either, which meant they weren’t from the oncology department.

“This is my sister, Nicky,” he said, before either could speak, not letting go of her hand. At this point, he felt like he needed someone _else_ to be there for this, just so he could be certain he wasn’t crazy. “She’s staying.”

The first doctor smiled for a second, before schooling her face into seriousness. “My name is Dr. Meyers, and this is my colleague, Dr. Carson. We’re part of the obstetrics team in charge of your case, and we want to discuss with you some options going forward.”

Dr. Carson tugged a card out from his pocket, handing it to Nicky. Aiden caught a glimpse of the word ‘surgeon’ on the front before she’d tucked it into her purse. “It’s my opinion that carrying to term would be dangerous. If you miscarried at any point, it could kill you—it would be much safer to abort now than risk it.”

“Can either of you explain what is going on?” Nicky had that hint of motherly command in her voice, which was good, because Aiden couldn’t speak at all. Could barely breathe, not when a sudden but fierce possessiveness had seized his chest and _squeezed_.

“From what we can tell, you have a combination of conditions that have made something of a perfect storm,” Meyers said, addressing her statement to him. “We can’t be certain, not without an MRI to see what _is_ going on in there, but we think that you were born intersex, with a uterus and a single ovary. It hasn’t presented an issue until now because your teste compensated for it, but that explains the how behind the pregnancy.”

“And?” Nicky asked, eyes sharp. But none of that was directed at him, thank god. Her laser focus was entirely on the doctors.

“Your urethral opening is a little low, and we think it may also connect back to your uterus—the problem is, we can’t see a birth canal of any kind, not an appropriate one, and it wouldn’t be physically _possible_ for your opening to widen properly. It’s something of a miracle that you were ever able to be impregnated in the first place.”

“Which is the other reason we’re suggesting a surgical abortion now,” Carson said, smoothly taking over. “If you did decide to carry to term, we would be scheduling a cesarean section for delivery. There’s no ethical reason to try and risk you otherwise. But it would be gentler on your body to perform an abortion now, and then a hysterectomy after you’ve recovered.”

“What kind of risks would that have?” Nicky’s grip was so tight on his hand that his bones ached.

“It’s a major surgery, but it’s a safe one. By allowing time for recovery, we’re setting the odds in our favor—and our surgical team is very good. We would be on the lookout for any possible complications, I can promise you that.” Carson had that easy air of confidence that said he truly believed it, too. Aiden had no doubts that he’d performed similar surgeries a hundred times before.

But…

“And we would want to schedule a hysterectomy no matter what,” said Meyers, voice gentle. “I understand that you were afraid this was cancer, and it may be that next time. From what I could see on your ultrasound, your ovary is already malformed, and it wouldn’t take much for it to develop tumors. We want to try and decrease your risk of cancer as much as possible.”

Nicky opened her mouth, but Aiden beat her to the punch, his free hand balled into a fist on his stomach. “And if I wanted to keep it?”

There was a pause, and he could feel his sister’s eyes on him. Aiden didn’t look at her, didn’t look anywhere but at Dr. Meyers, who he was pretty sure would be in his corner. He hoped she’d be in his corner.

Potential fatalities be _damned_ , he was keeping the baby. It was his. It was _his_.

“If you wanted to keep it,” Meyers said, shifting tracks, “we’d want you to make frequent check-ups here, along with keeping to both a prenatal vitamin regimen and some other supplements as we grew closer to term. We _can_ do things to make sure your baby gets its best start, even delivered prematurely, but that would require a lot of close watch on our part. You absolutely would not be able to try and do it on your own.”

“And it would be safer to abort _now_ ,” Carson insisted, voice firm.

“But I could try and carry it to term,” Aiden said, palm sweaty where it pressed into Nicky’s hand. “There’s nothing wrong with it now, and it’s just the delivery that’s a concern.”

“There could be other complications.” Meyers was quick to correct him, holding up a finger for him to wait. “We can’t guarantee that everything else would go perfectly, and you’re already a high-risk pregnancy. An increase in your blood pressure could make it riskier still, and there are other issues that could come up. This is why you would _need_ to be monitored closely.”

“He doesn’t have health insurance,” Nicky said before he could do anything. “Does the hospital have payment plans or something?”

There was another pause, both doctors looking at each other, then Meyers smiled reassuringly. “With your permission, if you _do_ carry to term, we would like to write a paper on this, Mr. Pearce. This is a stunningly rare case. Everything in the paper would be anonymous, we wouldn’t use your name or any photos of your face, but we would very much like to publish it. And on that condition, if you agree, we could convince the hospital to waive all fees in accordance with your care, both pre- and post-natal.”

Aiden swallowed, then squeezed his sister’s hand again. Her grip hadn’t faltered, and he hoped that meant she supported him with this. “What do I need to sign?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctors: Aiden, no.  
> Nicky: Aiden, no.  
> Everyone with sense: Aiden, _no_.  
> Aiden:  
> Aiden: But what if.... Aiden, yes?
> 
> Anyways. Aiden's intersex, one teste and one underdeveloped ovary + uterus, and he's got a mild case of hypospadias because of the location of his urethra and what should have been a birth canal (he's ovulated a few times over the years and just assumed he was passing a kidney stone, because he is an ENTIRE dumbass.) None of this was caught because it wasn't an extreme enough case to require surgical intervention, and Aiden avoids hospitals like the plague. He's always known his dick looked a little funny, but considering how many men have issues with testicular tortion, having only one nut never registered to him as unusual before now. Yes, this is going to cause problems later. Turns out, letting Jordi jerk him them both off at the same time was a BAD IDEA. 
> 
> (I have cannibalized medical texts across the board exactly enough to figure out a semi-plausible way to make this ridiculous mess occur, so if there's inaccuracies throughout this, assume I'm taking creative liberties for fun and profit.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to tell Jordi! I'm sure he will take everything just fine, and definitely be okay with all of this, and absolutely not have a complete tantrum in therapy about it later.

When he was finally allowed to sit in his car again, a day later, Aiden heaved a sigh of relief. His insomnia had never dealt well with public places, but the hospital had been a whole new nightmare to deal with. They’d finally done their last necessary blood draw and ultrasound thirty minutes ago, so he was _free_.

For another two weeks. And then he’d need to go back.

No, not thinking about that. He picked up his phone and found Jordi’s text from yesterday, still unanswered. Couldn’t put _that_ off any longer, but it was a conversation he wanted to have in person. He shot a text off and waited for a response that came only seconds later—that was good, meant Jordi didn’t have any work tonight.

He sent off another text, then carefully backed out of his parking space and navigated his way out of the garage. The hospital was about an hour away from Jordi’s condo in this kind of traffic, so he settled himself in for the drive and tried not to think about the conversation they were about to have. God, he might end up kicked out for the foreseeable future—no way to know how Jordi would react.

In every conversation they’d ever had, Jordi had expressed ambivalence towards his family at _best_ , outright mockery at worst. It hadn’t stopped him from taking money to find Lena’s killer initially, but Jordi had always been clear about where he stood when it came to _family_. It would be too much to ask for him to change that overnight.

But here Aiden was, about to ask.

He parked in his usual visitor’s spot, heading to the front desk on autopilot. The guards were pretty used to seeing his face by now, and his pass was half-filled out by the time he got there.

“How long are you planning on being here?” the guard asked, pushing his pass across the desk.

“Maybe a couple nights at most. We’ll call down if I need to move the car.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Pearce. You have a nice day.” Aiden gave him a tight smile, heading back outside to drop the pass on his dashboard. Then he went straight for the elevators, using his phone to hack the console and take him up.

Jordi’s door was unlocked when he got there, opening smoothly and silently. There was the warm, rich smell of coffee, wrapping around him as he shut the door, and the soft sound of the television in the living room. An ironing board stretched in front of the couch, white jacket draped across it, and the sound of the sink in the kitchen shut off as he walked further inside.

“Damn, Aiden, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jordi dried his hands with a towel as he leaned against the kitchen island, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked, hint of chest hair poking out from the neck of his undershirt.

Sometimes, when he saw Jordi like this, it almost felt like a trade—his niece for this. Aiden hated feeling like that, hated even thinking it, but there was no other way he would be lucky enough to catch Jordi’s eye in the first place.

And now he might lose it again. Just his luck.

“Yeah, I uh, I got some news. From the hospital. I need to talk to you.” He dragged his hand over his face, looking away and then up again.

Jordi’s lazy grin was gone, face dead serious as he straightened. He jerked his head back into the kitchen, then turned away, reaching for a couple mugs to grab them both coffee. That was… fine. Talking in the kitchen was probably a good idea. Better than the bedroom for obvious reasons.

Aiden gingerly sat at the table, folding his hands in front of him. Jordi set a mug next to his hands, then sat down across from him, leaning forward. “What the _fuck_ do you mean by ‘news from the hospital’, Aiden.” 

“It’s… kind of a long story.” He didn’t know why he was hedging, circling around the topic instead of going forward. There wasn’t any reason to be cagey, not when he had to tell Jordi, not when there was no way it was anyone _but_ Jordi, and yet.

“Is it contagious?”

That got him to look up, almost startling a laugh out of him. “What? Jesus, no. At least I hope not, that would just make it crazier.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jordi didn’t get the joke. His fault for not coming out with it at first.

“It’s—okay. Okay. I thought I had cancer, Jordi.” Not quite the whole truth yet, but opening the lid on pandora’s box a little more, creeping ever closer to the real reason he was here.

“You thought you had—Is _that_ why you’ve been such a moody bitch these last couple of weeks? You don’t have it, right? You said you _thought_ you had it, which means you don’t. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Jordi’s voice dropped a bit lower, anger coiled tight around the words. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the mug, so tight that it looked like it could crack at any minute.

“I haven’t been—Alright, I’ve been distracted, I’ll give you that, but it wasn’t a fatal cancer, so I didn’t think it… mattered. I didn’t think you would care.” Aiden glanced up from Jordi’s hands, and then away again at the look of outrage on Jordi’s face. Swing and a miss.

“You thought I wouldn’t care if you had _cancer_? We’ve been dating for months!” Yep, Jordi was mad. Very mad. It was becoming a running theme for him, all Aiden needed for a match-three was Jacks working up the courage to cuss him out.

“I wasn’t really thinking straight, okay? I’m _sorry_ , Jordi, I should have told you, but it isn’t cancer. I’m not dying. I’m just…” He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m pregnant.”

“If this is a fucking joke, it’s not a funny one. I’ve seen your _dick_ , Aiden.” At least they hadn’t progressed to yelling yet. Aiden could still hear the television in the living room, faint and domestic.

He swallowed and opened his eyes again, meeting Jordi’s angry gaze. “I can prove it. Get me a pregnancy test and I can prove it. We already ruled out cancer, and I saw the baby on a monitor. I am not _joking_ , Jordi.”

Jordi’s lips thinned, and then he stood up, stalking away from the table. His coffee was still untouched and as Aiden turned in his chair, he saw Jordi yank the jacket off the ironing board. Aiden wasn’t sure if he should stand up to follow him or stay there, and the hesitation cost him his chance to stop Jordi from storming out of the condo.

Alright. Alright. He couldn’t panic. He’d just challenged Jordi, on his own turf, which meant this was Jordi calling his bluff—probably going to go get that pregnancy test, try and find a logical answer no matter what. Aiden couldn’t even blame him. Would he have believed it if he hadn’t seen the ultrasound?

His stomach twisted, and Aiden hunched over, pressing his fingers against his lips. The nausea faded after a couple seconds but he didn’t try and straighten, struck with another realization. He’d assumed that the faint ache in his back and the constant feeling of sickness had both been symptoms of anxiety or cancer or _both_ but—were they this? Was his body trying to tell him something the whole time?

Another thought struck him, catching his breath in his chest until he was lightheaded with it. If he hadn’t seen the pregnancy tests in Nicky’s medicine cabinet, if she hadn’t drunkenly dared him, if he hadn’t looked up what it could mean on his phone, if _none_ of that had happened—would he have ever known? Or would he have died one day, no clue why, because his body was tearing itself apart from the inside?

His stomach twisted again, propelling him out of the chair and to the bathroom. By the time Jordi banged back into the condo, Aiden had lost what little breakfast he’d choked down that morning, the hospital food no more palatable on the return voyage. He was still hunched over the toilet when the rustle of a bag alerted him to Jordi’s presence.

He flushed the toilet and sat back, eyeing the bag tiredly. Jordi was stacking three, _four_ boxes of pregnancy tests on the counter, all different brands.

“You know, you might as well grab me a—” Aiden watched him set a plastic package of solo cups on the counter too. “—cup. Great. Gonna watch me pee, too?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t fucking seen before,” Jordi said, face set in a hard expression. 

He… might deserve that. Aiden held a hand out for a cup, using his other as a brace to heft himself upright. Thankfully, the hospital had been pumping fluids into him, so it wasn’t like this would take long.

“How long have you been getting sick for?” Jordi’s voice was quiet, but not in the usual dangerous way. He sounded tired. Aiden could sympathize, even if he was annoyed by the cold shoulder.

“Couple of weeks,” he said, carefully pouring the cup into the toilet once all of the tests were sitting out to dry. “Mostly at my place. Sometimes Nicky’s. Usually it’s just nausea, but…”

“Any idea why that might be?” Jordi leaned against the counter, face no longer carved from stone. He was still dressed to go out, or maybe dressed to kick _Aiden_ out. It was hard to tell.

“Uh, used to think it was a cancer symptom. I’m beginning to realize it’s probably morning sickness.” Christ, and what a thought that was. Had Nicky been this bad? He’d have to ask her, because he didn’t think she had been. Certainly not with Lena.

“It’s four in the afternoon, Aiden.”

“It’s just the term for it, Jordi, don’t read into the time too much,” Aiden said, rubbing his face and sitting back down on the floor. If Jordi was going to kick him out, he’d have to lift him first.

As the tests dried, each came back—two lines, an o, a plus sign—all of them positive. There was being careful to account for false positives, and then there was wasting money. If Jordi had _asked_ him, Aiden would have told him this was a waste of money.

He could feel Jordi’s presence behind him, the air heavy with the weight of Jordi’s gaze. No way for him to deny it now, not unless he wanted to double down on the cancer explanation. But Aiden was pretty sure that physical proof would be enough. It was part of why he’d suggested it in the first place, because _he_ wouldn’t have believed it.

Maybe he should have asked for printouts of the ultrasound. They were mailing him a CD at… some point. Didn’t do him much good now.

There was a quiet rustle of silk on silk, and then heat against his back as Jordi sat down and leaned against him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jordi’s legs stretched out beside him, and his suit smelled crisp and clean, freshly laundered and ironed. Aiden shut his eyes and leaned into the curve of Jordi’s body, letting that scent wrap around him to banish the lingering hints of illness.

“So, you’re a freak of nature now. Congrats. Want to go on Maury about it?” Jordi’s voice was low, but the roughness there was probably concern. It’d be sweet, if it weren’t so weird.

“Jerry, surely. I thought Maury was a couple income levels below your standards. And wouldn’t this be more of an Ellen thing anyways?” Aiden reached for Jordi’s other hand, pulling it around and pressing it into his stomach. He mostly wanted the heat, but the way Jordi tensed up reminded him of the other implications in the gesture.

“Uh-huh. Look, I love lesbians, but not enough to go on talk shows with them. How the fuck did this happen?” Jordi’s arms were like steel cables around him, hand frozen where Aiden was holding it.

“Mm.” Not a conversation he wanted to have, but Aiden couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I was born with a… birth defect? A condition? Apparently I’ve got a uterus and exactly one ovary. Two sets of junk for the price of one sort of deal. And at some point, you gave me a handy and knocked me up.”

“Not even the fun parts of a vagina either,” Jordi muttered, startling a snort out Aiden.

“Yeah, you would think that. They don’t know why it happened _now_ , but… I can’t have a live birth, obviously. We’re going to schedule a C-section. And then, after that, once I’m a little more recovered they’re going to take it all out. Give my lone testicle a break in the hormone war.”

The hand on his stomach twitched at the mention of a cesarean, Jordi’s fingers pressing in harder. His breath was hot over Aiden’s ear as he turned to say, “You’re keeping the baby.”

It wasn’t a question. Aiden answered anyways. “Yeah.”

“And you want me involved.” Jordi sounded skeptical, and that _hurt_. Hurt more than Aiden wanted to admit, his chest going tight and aching.

“You don’t have to be,” he said, opening his eyes and staring at the shower wall. “I’m not going to force you. If you want to—If you want to break up, or pull away, or… whatever, I’d understand. This wasn’t exactly planned.”

Jordi was quiet, breathing slow and even. It had been… ten months now since Lena died. Aiden had cried at her funeral, but the rain had covered it up. Before then, it had to have been years since the last time he’d been overwhelmed enough to tear up. And yet, here he was, eyes burning like he’d been gassed because Jordi wasn’t jumping to reassure him.

As if Jordi ever _would_ , outside of a weird mirror-verse where he shaved his evil goatee off. Aiden swallowed, trying to push the tightness out of his throat and chest, trying to sync his breathing and heartbeat to Jordi’s. He couldn’t manage it, but at least he tried.

“You know, you’re really good at fucking up my day when you want to,” Jordi said after a while, his lips brushing Aiden’s cheek.

“Yeah, I hear that a lot,” Aiden said, trying to tease but feeling too fragile to commit to it.

“I’m not kicking you out. And I’m not, fucking, breaking up with you or whatever, leaving you all martyred and shit in a rainy bus stop. That’d be stupid. I just need a couple days for this to stop sounding crazy. Maybe a week.” Jordi’s tone slid from firm to irritated at the end, like the idea of having his week caught up in baby drama pissed him off.

“Do you want me to—”

“I _want_ you to stop being a dipshit and stay the night. Let me cook you dinner. Suck my dick or something if you can promise not to throw up on it afterwards.” Jordi’s arm around his shoulders tightened, like he could keep Aiden from getting up and doing something stupid. “How far along are you, anyways?”

He couldn’t help a watery chuckle, his thumb rubbing at Jordi’s wrist. “A couple months. At least ten weeks, I think. I, uh, I’ll ask at the next appointment, just to make sure.”

Jordi’s lips brushed his cheek again, soft and dry. “I want to be at that appointment.”

* * *

He was so, so sick of hospitals.

Jordi was in a grey suit today, his shirt black. It was the least amount of color Aiden had ever seen him in, not even a tie or handkerchief to brighten the whole thing up. At least he wasn’t dressed for a funeral… yet.

In his jeans and t-shirt, Aiden felt underdressed next to him. He hoped the hospital didn’t think he was coming in with a lawyer or something, because he really didn’t want to be stuck with his own bills. Nothing had showed up in his mailbox yet, so he was pretty sure they were keeping to their side of the deal.

His stomach wasn’t much larger than it had been, but Aiden was certain he could see it growing. He hadn’t thought about how he was going to dress for this—maternity wear was out, both because he wouldn’t be caught dead in a blouse _and_ because most of those shirts weren’t cut for his shoulders. Maybe Nicky would have some ideas. Maybe Jordi’s tailor would.

Dr. Meyers’s office was in the same building as the GP he’d seen, just on a different floor. It was uncomfortable taking someone with him, almost like an invasion of his privacy, no matter how invited. He kept waiting for Jordi to get off the elevator before him, then kicking himself when he remembered that _he_ was leading.

Bastard that he was, Jordi didn’t seem discomfited by their surroundings at all.

The office had a few people, but wasn’t nearly as crowded as the last one he’d come to. But _this_ waiting room was filled up with almost exclusively women, a few with small children sitting on chairs next to them or playing with some toys in a corner set aside for it. The few men were clearly attached—he and Jordi were the outliers. It didn’t soothe his nerves any.

Aiden made a point of sitting as far away from the rest of the room as possible, tucked into a corner with Jordi on his vulnerable side. It was a stupid, territorial thing, but it made him feel better when nothing else did.

HGTV was playing on the televisions in the waiting room, just loud enough to hide the details of the quiet conversations going on around them. Jordi’s suit was drawing more attention than he was, and Aiden took full advantage of that fact to fade into the background beside him.

No kids over the age of five, but that was probably for the best. Lena’s death was still a raw thing for him, and he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the sight of another little brunette girl her age right now. It made him wonder what _his_ kid would look like, whether they’d take after him or Jordi more. Impossible to know now, but he couldn’t help thinking about it, turning the thought over and over in his head like a worry stone, trying to find something solid to latch onto.

Jordi leaned over and pressed his lips to Aiden’s ear, voice barely a whisper as he said, “I can’t tell if I’m getting a bachelorette party or a kindergarten vibe, and the parallels are making me real fucking uncomfortable. You?”

It got a soft snort and a smile out of him, which might have been what Jordi was aiming for. Before Aiden could answer, a nurse called his name, so he patted Jordi’s thigh and stood to head back.

She weighed him and then dumped him off in a room with a _different_ nurse, Jordi settling in a chair by the door as Aiden took the hot seat. Same questions as every time, though this time Aiden made a point to tell her that he’d quit smoking a month ago. From across the room, Jordi raised an eyebrow and mouthed ‘no wonder you’ve been bitchy’ while she entered that in.

And then she was handing him one of those _goddamn_ gowns and gesturing for him to get up on the table next to the ultrasound machine. Aiden gave the gown a dirty look, but waited for her to leave the room before he made a frustrated noise.

“Not a fan?” Jordi looked weirdly fashionable, draped in the hospital chair like he was. He’d tugged his jacket into place and managed to look more like a magazine model than an expectant father.

“Not a fan,” Aiden said sourly, stripping his shirt and pants off. “Tie me up?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Jordi flashed him a grin, then stood, neatly securing the gown on. “You know, in the dramas they always do it in casual clothes. Kind of weird that they’re sticking you in the full in-patient getup.”

“I swear to god, if I get put in the hospital again, I’m having you break me out,” Aiden muttered, swinging himself up on the table and lying back.

Hands pressed into the paper lining at either side of his head as Jordi leaned over him, blocking out the fluorescent lighting from the panels above. “Again? You wanna explain that to me, Aiden?”

“It was a further concern _thing_ , not an emergency thing. When they first spotted the baby on the ultrasound, they admitted me. Probably would have made it easier on them if I _had_ gone for an abortion.” He squinted, trying to see Jordi’s eyes against the halo of light around his hair. “You know, you’ll get in trouble if they catch you trying to make out with me in the office.”

“You just have to ruin all my fun, don’t you.” Jordi leaned in further, giving him a brief, soft kiss, then stepped back and settled in his chair just in time for the door to swing open.

Dr. Meyers smiled at him as she walked in, then glanced at Jordi. “And this is…?”

“The father. Other father.” Aiden stumbled over that thought (what the _hell_ did that make him?) but tried not to let his consternation show. “He, uh, wanted to see for himself.”

“Well, I can’t blame him for that,” she said, settling in the chair and rolling over to the machine. “So, this appointment is going to be mostly routine. I want to see how the baby’s doing and see how _you’re_ doing—pregnancy can be pretty rough on the body, and you’re not built for it. For now, I’m just doing an ultrasound, but if I spot anything concerning, we might check you in again for further study. How have you been feeling?”

“Fine,” Aiden said.

“He’s been throwing up every couple of days, and gets weird about food pretty regularly,” Jordi corrected, hands folded across his stomach. “And he’s not sleeping as well. The insomnia’s kicking in more often, and he already had problems with it before. Don’t fucking look at me like that, Aiden, I can tell when you’re getting up in the middle of the night.”

Meyers gave Jordi a thoughtful look, and then Aiden a critical one. That wasn’t an expression he really wanted to see on the face of his doctor. He winced as she said, “Thank you. If nausea continues to be a problem, _please_ tell me, Aiden. It should let up within the next few weeks, but if it doesn’t, there are some courses of action we can take. You need to be eating for your health _and_ the baby.”

“Right, yeah, I get it,” he muttered, taking the towel she handed him and tucking it across his thighs under the gown. Trust Jordi to snitch on him. He didn’t even look ashamed by it either, smug bastard.

She tucked the gown up and started smearing gel on his stomach, hands deft and sure. “Have you been taking vitamins?”

“Slipped my mind.” Aiden refused to look over at Jordi, no matter how hard his gaze was. Maybe it had been a mistake, letting him come.

“You need to be taking those too. I’m going to measure your stomach after you’ve wiped down, alright? We want to keep track of everything, just in case it’s important.”

“How old is it? The baby?” Jordi asked, his tone conversational.

“Based on our previous ultrasound scans, it should be about fifteen weeks now. We could try and sex it for you, if you want.” Meyes pulled the scanner over, sliding it across Aiden’s stomach as the image on the screen wobbled into focus.

Aiden’s breath hitched, even though he couldn’t see much yet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know—didn’t want to risk falling in love with the idea of a kid before they were born. And yet…

“I want to know,” Jordi said, getting out of his chair and leaning against the table next to Aiden. One of his hands gripped Aiden’s arm, fingers tight enough to bruise.

“Me too,” Aiden agreed, reaching over to gently hook his fingers in the hem of Jordi’s pants. “If you can.”

Meyers hummed softly as the wobbly, grainy view took shape. Aiden could make out vaguely what he thought was the head, but he wasn’t positive. Hard to tell on a screen like that.

Still, it was a reminder that this was real. It hadn’t settled in yet; he woke up most mornings and forgot entirely until he reached for his cigarettes. And then he’d remember, the cancer scare first and the fact that _he was pregnant_ seconds later, like a revelation all over again. It had to be worse for Jordi, who’d had this air of skepticism the whole time.

“Let me see…” Meyers said, her gaze focused on the screen as she shifted the wand. Aiden wasn’t sure what she was doing until he heard the rapid, thudding sound come from the speaker. It took him a moment to place it, and then he felt Jordi’s fingers dig hard into his arm.

That was his baby’s heartbeat. It was alive, inside of him, and it had a _heartbeat_.

“It looks like she might be a little girl,” Meyers said thoughtfully, the sound fading as she moved the wand. “If you can keep on track with your appointments and your prenatal care, you should have a daughter. And she’s looking healthy so far.”

A daughter. He had a daughter.

The rest of the appointment was hazy, dreamlike, his head in the clouds while Jordi asked questions. It was almost like his first appointment in this hospital, when he was three steps outside of his body and the rest of the world continued on without him. Somehow, in the space of a few minutes, this had gone from a laughably unreal situation to painfully, poignantly real.

Aiden had the feeling that he wasn’t going to forget he was pregnant when he woke up again.

Jordi’s hand was warm on the small of his back as he led Aiden out of the office. The floating feeling followed him out, all the way to the parking garage where Jordi’s car was parked, fast and oil-slick black in its space. Aiden yanked himself back to Earth, pressing a hand to the car door and using the feeling of it to ground himself.

“Are you good to drive?” Jordi asked skeptically, holding the keys just out of reach.

He rolled his eyes and made a grab for them. “I’ll be fine, Jordi. It was just a lot to take in.”

The doubtful noise Jordi made wasn’t very encouraging, but he handed the keys over, so Aiden counted it as a win. He settled in the driver's seat, the cool leather leeching the remaining warmth from his back, and twisted the key. It started with a purr, like it always did, and he let the sound wash over him as another way to keep himself in the moment.

Navigating out of the parking garage was enough to let him shake the last of the cotton out of his head. Jordi was silent beside him, hand over his mouth as he stared out the side window. His grip on Aiden’s arm had left bruises, though they weren’t showing yet, a reminder of just how hard the news had hit them both.

He pulled into traffic, then cleared his throat. “So, uh. I need to tell my nephew about this—we’ve been keeping him in the dark. And… I’d like you to meet my sister. My family.”

Jordi didn’t answer for a long time, but as Aiden came to a stop at a red light, he finally turned his head and sighed. “You know, I’m not good at this touchy feely stuff. And I sure as _shit_ don’t want anything to do with families or whatever. I don’t know. Maybe…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but it didn’t matter. Aiden knew how to read the writing on the wall, and the fact that he was choking on his own heartbeat didn’t change that fact. Damien had started sleeping around within months of them hooking up. At least Jordi was doing him the courtesy of properly dumping him. “Yeah. No. I get that.”

“It’s not you, it’s all of the shit that comes _with_ you,” Jordi said, watching him. “Look. You got out of the fixing game after Lena died, the hard stuff. Yeah, I still throw driving jobs your way, and I know you’re doing that fucking… whatever, online wire fraud, but none of the _dangerous_ shit. Me? I’m still ass deep in it.”

A gunshot. His car flipping. Jackson’s high, frightened voice and the damning, terrible lack of Lena’s. Aiden swallowed hard and flipped on his turn signal, merging onto a different road and taking them back to Jordi’s condo. “Yeah, I know. No connections, that’s your thing.”

“It’s just—Shit, if it was just you, fucking whatever, you’re like a goddamn cockroach, but a kid? Your _family_? If someone gets mad because I didn’t shoot Billy No-Nuts good enough, they’ll come after you and yours, and that’s a goddamn problem for me.” Jordi sighed again, sounding more resigned this time.

He should let the subject drop there. When he’d told Jordi he didn’t have to stay, he’d meant it—Aiden knew more about taking care of kids than Jordi did, he was independently wealthy, he had his sister. Push came to shove, he didn’t _need_ Jordi to stick around.

But he wanted him to. God, he wanted him to. His fingers tightened on the wheel, eyes not straying from the road no matter how badly he wanted to see Jordi’s face.

“What if,” Aiden said, hating himself for not dropping it but knowing he’d regret it if he did, “you gave it a shot anyways?”

“The hell are you talking about?” Jordi’s voice lifted in incredulity and faint outrage.

“What if you gave it a shot anyways? What if, instead of assuming that anyone who wanted revenge on you would come for _me_ , you trusted your own skills _and mine_? I’m not going to have another Merlaut, and you were always better at covering your tracks than I was. But I can disappear. I can make both of us, _all_ of us disappear if I wanted to. So what if you gave it a shot?” 

“Your argument is ‘no, really, we’ll hide better this time’? Seriously?” It wasn’t an outright rejection. Aiden couldn’t tell if he was actually sick or if he was having a panic attack—either way, the nausea threatened to rip him apart.

“I think,” he said, taking careful, shallow breaths, “if someone wanted to hurt you, through me, breaking up wouldn’t matter. For me. It might matter for you, because you’ll have that distance, but if someone was dead and determined to kill your kid, it would only be after I’m dead. So I have nothing to lose here. If you want to walk out, you can walk out. But she’s still your daughter. And I’m not losing a second one.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Jordi muttered, leather creaking as he resettled in his chair. “Alright. You know what? I’m calling my therapist about this. And _then_ I will tell you whether or not I’m ever meeting your family. Deal?”

“Deal,” Aiden said as he pulled into a parking lot and stopped the car a few spots away from everyone else. Then he popped open the door and threw up.

* * *

The spoon hit the floor with a clatter, sending pasta sauce across the tile and up his pants. Aiden let out a soft, frustrated noise as he bent down, one hand braced on the counter so he didn’t topple over too.

“Here, let me rinse that off. Do you think there’s enough garlic in this?” Nicky took the spoon from him and ran it under the water, then took his place in front of the stove. A thick recipe book sat open on the counter, it’s tiny instructions highlighted in spots where neither of them had been certain they’d remember the steps.

“We used three cloves, right? That should be plenty.” Aiden leaned on the counter away from it, looking up at the timer on the microwave. Everything _smelled_ good, which was a plus, but both of them were shaky chefs. Nicky at least managed not to burn things as often as he did.

“Ugh, I hate doing alfredo sauces. I’m never sure if I’m doing them right.” She scooped up a bit of sauce, blew on it, and then took a careful taste. “Is he coming over tonight? Do you know?”

“He hasn’t texted me back yet, so… I’m not sure.” He thought about giving the noodles a stir, then decided against it. He’d been dropping things left and right over the last couple days. The spoon was just another victim in a long line of innocently thrown objects.

“That’s kind of rude, isn’t it?” she asked, holding out the spoon for him to taste.

He carefully licked the sauce off and hummed happily. “Mm, it tastes great. Jordi’s… kind of a rude guy, but I can’t blame him in this case. It was a nasty shock for him. He’s not big on personal connections.”

Nicky gave him a look. It was the look she’d given him last time he’d hedged around his income, the look that said she _knew_ he was involved in something illegal but wasn’t willing to fight him over it. That had always been their unspoken rule: if he didn’t put her in danger, she wouldn’t risk their relationship by forcing him to lie. He’d broken it, with Lena, but he’d also dropped out of the game. It was probably the only reason she’d forgiven him.

But instead of getting on his case about Jordi, she just peered down the hall into the living room, and dropped her voice. “Are you going to tell Jacks tonight?”

Maybe Jordi would have been a better subject. He glanced down the hall as well, watching Jacks play on his tablet, headphones firmly in place. No way he could hear them in here, but it worried him anyways. “Um. Yeah, I won’t be able to hide it for long, so. Yeah.”

“You know he’s still going to love you, right?” Nicky said gently, giving the noodles a stir and then popping the oven open to grab the garlic bread. “Neither of us care if you’re gay. You’re still family.”

“Mom cared.” He stopped watching Jacks, rubbing a hand over his face and looking at her instead. The smile on her face was sad and sympathetic.

“Mom could be stupid about things sometimes, just like Dad. And this was one of those things. But _we_ don’t care, Aiden. I haven’t been to church since I was nineteen, and I don’t even know if Jacks knows who Jesus is.” She gave the sauce another stir, eyeing it suspiciously, while Aiden snorted.

“I’m sure he’s got a general idea. Some kind of video game character, right?” He gave her a small smile of his own, taking the offered escape.

“Something like that. I swear, he watches these shows sometimes? And they are so _weird_ , Aiden, I have no idea what’s going on. Nothing bad, but just… weird. I think one is a tie-in to his game, but I can’t keep any of them straight anymore. Should I take this off the heat?”

“I think it’s simmered long enough. Let me set the table.” He pushed away from the counter, grabbing a stack of plates and locking his wrists when they threatened to wobble. The cups and silverware were less dangerous, easier to set out now that he remembered to keep a firm grip on them.

That done, he walked out to the living room, gently resting a hand on Jacks’s shoulder. His nephew looked up, then tugged his headphones down, his character settling into an idle animation on the screen of his tablet. Even without talking, Jacks had an expressive face—Aiden had gotten used to figuring out the little nuances of his brows when it came to questions.

“Find a spot to save and log out kiddo, dinner’s ready.” He gave Jacks a small smile and got one in return, then pulled his hand away as Jacks went to find a spot where he wouldn’t get killed on logging in again.

They came into the kitchen together as Nicky finished spooning sauce over the noodles, tongue poking out between her lips as she took great care to pour _exactly_ as much as the recipe book told her to. Jacks scooted around the outside of the table to sit with his back to the window, leaving the other two seats open. Even though he didn’t like having the hall to his back, Aiden sat in the chair across from him. He could deal with the discomfort for a meal.

“You excited to go back to school?” Aiden asked, taking a small bite of the noodles and waiting to see if his stomach would handle them. No open revolt yet, so he might be safe.

Jacks nodded eagerly, mouth so stuffed full of food that he couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. Nicky rolled her eyes at the sight, then said, “We got him an accomodation at the school, so the teachers will let him have his tablet in class. I’m planning on going up the first week still, just in case any of them want to kick up a fuss.”

“Good way to get out of book reports,” Aiden said dryly as Jacks nodded again, taking a smaller bite of his food. “You might have to do more essays though. You think you can handle that?”

“As long as he’s doing his homework, he should be fine. And you _will_ be doing your homework, won’t you Jacks?” Nicky’s tone was firm, and Aiden gave his nephew a helpless shrug when Jacks looked at him with pleading eyes. The end of last year had been a bad time for grades, but he’d get in trouble if he did all of Jacks’s math homework again.

“I will,” Jacks said, swallowing his mouthful of noodles. His voice was whisper-soft, disuse and shyness both leaving their mark. At least he was talking now, even if it was only with them. Aiden knew his sister would take what little victories she could get.

“And your uncle doesn’t get to do all your times tables for you this time.” Nicky gave _him_ a hard look now, so Aiden lifted his hands in submission. “You’re going to have to memorize those, in case you want to be a genius when you grow up.”

“ _Want_ to be?” Jacks asked incredulously. “Aren’t you born like that?”

“Sometimes you just grow up and find out you’re better at something than you thought you’d be,” Aiden said, stealing a slice of garlic bread out from under his sister’s fingers. One bite of that was enough to convince him he was being _too_ brave, so he went back to the safety of his noodles. “Maybe you’ll be the next big game designer or something.”

“Or an astrophysicist. We have to go to Mars eventually, right? You could be on the first ship to Mars, Jacks.” Nicky stole the bread back from his plate, giving him a grin before chomping down on it. God, he wished he could do that too.

“I’m going to be a doctor,” Jacks said, spinning his fork in his noodles, watching them wind around the tines. “I want to save people.”

Aiden glanced at Nicky’s face, then looked away at the mixture of pride and sorrow that passed over it. They all carried Lena with them in their own ways, but it was easy to forget that Nicky had lost a daughter—she hid her grief the hardest, not letting it eat her up like it ate up him and Jacks. He wished he could take that from her, but he couldn’t. All he could do was be there.

Carefully, he cleared his throat and leaned back, seeing Jacks’s attention snap to him lightning fast. Had to keep that in mind, how sensitive Jacks was to shifts in mood. “So, Jacks. I have something important to tell you.”

His nephew tentatively took a bite of his food, nodding for him to continue. Nicky reached over and rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, picking up another piece of garlic bread and chomping down. With both of them occupied, it was a clear signal for him to go on.

“It turns out I have a… condition, let’s say, that makes me a little different from other men. We didn’t know about it until recently, but it’s come up now because I’m—” He hesitated, trying to find a tactful way of saying it before giving up. “I’m pregnant. You’re going to have a cousin in a few months, and we wanted you to know before I started showing.”

The noodles dropped from Jacks’s mouth as he gaped.

“I know, it’s pretty crazy,” Nicky said, licking garlic butter off her fingers, “ _but_ your uncle only found out a couple weeks ago too, so we’ve been pretty surprised too. This is a good thing though.”

“You’re _serious_?” Jacks asked, sweet voice lifting in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Aiden replied, smiling wryly. “It’s a one in a million sort of thing, and I guess I’m lucky number one.”

“But you’re a _guy_!”

“It’s a complicated medical thing. If you want, I can sit you down and explain it, but, uh, it’ll come with a side-order of sex ed too, so…” Aiden shrugged a little, trying not to laugh at the look of horror on Jacks’s face. Nicky was hiding her smile behind a piece of bread, glancing over at him and doing her best not to crack up as well.

“Am I going to have to help with the baby? Do I have to learn how to change diapers?” Jacks looked dazed by this whole new world of responsibility opening in front of him. As funny as it was, it made Aiden’s heart ache for all the right reasons, too. This was the most he’d gotten out of his nephew since Lena’s death.

“I’ll handle most of that,” Aiden reassured him, carefully pushing his plate away and pretending that he didn’t see the sharp look Nicky gave him. “And, depending on how he feels about it, my boyfriend might help too.”

In the few seconds after he said the word ‘boyfriend’, it was like the world slowed. He waited for the condemnation, the mockery, for Jacks to wrinkle his nose in disgust like he never wanted to be touched by Aiden again. But heartbeat after heartbeat kept time moving forward, and Jacks didn’t even seem to notice what he’d said.

“If we _do_ end up babysitting, I’m totally teaching you to change a diaper though. Time for you to learn to be a man, Jacks,” Nicky said, tearing the last two slices of garlic bread apart and dropping them on her son’s plate. “And that’s including all the poopy butts you’ll have to look at in medical school.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor anymore,” Jacks said with the panicked haste of someone who was realizing his mistake _after_ he’d made it. “I’m going to be a car salesman instead.”

“Get ready to deal with even more babies than you thought,” Aiden said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. His heart was still beating too hard and too fast, the stress of coming out to his nephew curdling in his stomach, but he had a handle on it now. “Maybe I’ll buy a minivan after she’s born.”

“It’s a girl?” Nicky’s head snapped up, ponytail whipping around hard enough to smack her in the face.

“It’s a girl,” he said, right before the doorbell rang. All three of them turned towards it, Aiden half-standing before Nicky waved him down and walked out of the kitchen. From his chair, he could barely see the front door, but he could hear just fine, Nicky’s voice lifting in a question as she opened the door.

“Nicky, right? I’m dating your brother, he asked me to come.” Jordi’s dry voice sent another jolt through him. Aiden stood, giving Jacks a quick smile before he headed down the hall, resting a hand on his sister’s back as he leaned against the doorframe.

Jordi was in his usual grey suit, a bottle of wine in one hand and a look on his face like he was trying to decide if he was offended by being kept outside. His Papavero was parked on the side of the road, already drawing looks from the neighbors. Aiden _knew_ Jordi could get a hold of a less conspicuous car—he preferred steel-bodied old muscle cars during jobs for a reason—but it was like he had something to prove.

“Hey Jordi,” he said, stepping out of the way and rotating his sister so she was out of the doorway too. “Nicky, this is Jordi. Jordi, this is my sister—Jacks is in the kitchen, we weren’t sure if you were coming so we started eating already.”

“That’s alright, I figured you would. You drink wine?” The question was directed at Nicky, who shut the door and took the bottle with a thoughtful frown.

“Not usually, but I can make an exception for a good riesling.” She gave them both a warm smile, then headed back down the hall, calling, “Jacks! Your uncle’s boyfriend is here, come say hi.”

Jordi’s arm was tense when Aiden touched it, his entire body stiff despite his easy words. The car, the wine—was he trying to impress them? He leaned into Jordi, running a hand up his back before resting it on his shoulder, pressing a careful kiss to his cheek and catching the scent of his aftershave.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered, feeling Jordi’s back muscles flex under his fingers.

“I wasn’t going to, and then I bought wine and did,” Jordi muttered in irritation, wrapping an arm around Aiden’s waist. “You told ‘em?”

“Just now. Jacks is quiet, so don’t be too surprised if he doesn’t talk to you.” His nephew was half-hiding by the hallway wall, trying to peek around the corner without being seen. Aiden could sympathize; he didn’t like having his space invaded either, and Nicky’s house had never really been a party to boyfriends of any kind. This had to be weird for him. “Hey, kiddo, come over here and say hi. He won’t bite, I promise.”

Jordi snorted, but the tension in his body dropped a little, the set of his shoulders relaxing as he gave Jacks that arrogant smirk that came so naturally to him. It didn’t do much to make his nephew relax, but Jacks did detach from the wall and come over to Aiden’s other side, half-hiding behind _him_ now. Aiden slid a hand over the back of Jacks’s neck, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Jacks, this is Jordi. We’ve, uh, been dating for a couple months now. Jordi, this is my nephew—I’ve told you about him.” Aiden gave Jordi a rueful look, hoping that he’d retained at least _something_ from one of the conversations about family they’d had.

“You like that MMO, yeah? The one with five classes?” Jordi untangled himself from Aiden’s hold, moving to carefully sit on the edge of the couch. Almost instantly, Jacks perked up, his little hands fisting in Aiden’s shirt as he nodded shyly.

“It’s called Glitch… something? Right?” Aiden rubbed Jacks’s back again, then looked down and said, “Why don’t you grab your tablet and show him?”

Those were the magic words to grant permission, Jacks letting go and sitting down next to Jordi as he grabbed his tablet and logged into the game. It was a start. Jordi had showed up, and Jacks was willing to be in the same room with him—Aiden couldn’t ask for more.


	4. Chapter 4

He was beginning to regret keeping the baby.

They’d warned him that this could kill him, and they’d been strongly against him keeping it from the beginning, but Aiden had expected death to come in agony and pain, not the sheer abject misery he was consumed by now. His appetite swung between ravenous and nonexistent, his body desperate for food even as it rejected things for arbitrary reasons. Something he’d eaten yesterday would end up unacceptable today, and he wasn’t eating _enough_ , he knew that.

Nicky had been worried, because she’d stopped having morning sickness pretty soon into both of her pregnancies. When she was carrying Lena, she’d barely felt nauseous at all. The two of them had dug up a half-dozen home remedies to carry him over to his doctor's appointment tomorrow, with mixed results.

And when his cup of mint tea had slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor an hour ago, the smell had driven him from the kitchen entirely.

The bitch of it all was that he’d left his phone out there too. The last two attempts he’d made to stand had ended up with his head in the toilet again, so Aiden was resigned to hugging the porcelain throne for the next couple hours. There had to be _something_ to make this stop, and he was worn down enough now that his pride would let him ask.

If he could ever get up and go to the hospital in the first place. If he didn’t die in his stupid studio apartment from his own idiocy. Those were some big ‘ifs’.

A loud knock interrupted his thoughts, and he lifted his head to squint at the bathroom door. He hadn’t ordered anything—his takeout and delivery days were over—and Nicky wouldn’t be coming over without letting him know ahead of time. Maybe Jordi, but he wasn’t sure Jordi knew where he lived. A neighbor?

Aiden strained his ears, head tipped and one hand resting on the seat of the toilet. Faintly, just in the range of his hearing, there was the scratch of lockpicking tools.

He swung himself sideways, yanking open the sink cabinet and groping at the underside of the counter. A gun was taped there, already loaded—he checked to make sure a bullet was chambered, then rolled so he was behind the bathroom door, angling himself so that the mirror gave him a view of the rest of the apartment. Whichever bastard was coming for revenge or money was going to find him a lot more prepared than they expected. He could turn anything in this bathroom into a weapon if he wanted.

The front door creaked open as his heartbeat thudded in his ears, clicking softly as the intruder shut it behind himself. They moved almost silently through his apartment, just out of his range of sight—the bathroom wasn’t set up for him to spy with easily, and whoever had broken in was a professional. His floorboards made faint noises with the intruder’s movement, but some of those could easily be the apartments around him. Impossible to tell.

A soft clink as the shards of his cup were moved in the kitchen. Then nothing.

He caught a glimpse of white suit and dark hair in the mirror, tightened his grip on the gun, and took a slow, careful breath. His heart was still pounding, but he was in front of the adrenaline now—no shake in his hands, muscles loose and relaxed as he set himself in a more defensive position with his left arm curled around his stomach. It could be Jordi. It could be—

The figure moved back into view again, heading for the bathroom, and Aiden was finally able to see his face, set in a pissed off expression as he reached for the door. Jordi. Thank _god_ , it was Jordi.

“You know, if you wanted to kill me, a heart attack isn’t the most efficient way,” Aiden said, voice rough, relaxing his hand and carefully pointing the barrel of his gun down. Hard to find a safe direction when he was surrounded by other units.

Jordi didn’t jump, but his attention snapped to the mirror, catching Aiden’s eye before he opened the door the rest of the way and scowled down at him. “What the fuck happened in there? It looked like you’d been kidnapped, you dick.”

“I dropped my tea. And, uh, ended up in here for the last… however long it’s been.” He set the gun on the floor and leaned back against the wall, dragging a hand down his face. “Why are you here?”

“I tried calling and you didn’t pick up. You didn’t pick up _three times_. So I came to see if you were dead. You thought _you_ were scared, I’m over here thinking you’ve gotten yourself fucking shot.” Jordi dropped to a crouch next to him, pressing the back of his hand to Aiden’s cheek. It was warm and dry, so he leaned into the touch with a soft sigh.

“Didn’t know you were capable of fear, Jordi. I thought you only had three emotions?” It was _weird_ knowing that Jordi had been afraid. Stressed, sure, uncertain, apparently, but afraid? Aiden had caught more of Jordi’s underlying emotions in the last couple weeks than he had in _months_.

“Well, apparently I have fucking _four_ , and the fourth one is just ‘Aiden is an idiot’ in various flavors. You’re still throwing up?” Jordi’s voice was acidic, but his hand was gentle as he rubbed his knuckles over Aiden's cheek. It was sweet. Loving, even. Not very Jordi at all.

“Mm,” Aiden said, not wanting to commit to a ‘yes’, “a little bit. The mint was supposed to help, but it did the opposite.”

“Fucking moron. Come on, I’m taking you home. I don’t like you being alone like this, not when you’re falling all over yourself and dropping shit. We’ll pack some bags to take with us.” Jordi gave his cheek one last stroke, then reached over him for the gun. Once it was unloaded and safe, he stood up and walked out, heading back into the main room to pack that bag. Knowing Jordi, he was making sure all the weapons were coming with them.

Aiden sat there for a few minutes longer, waiting for his blood pressure to drop. Hell of a nasty way to be reminded that he wasn’t safe here by himself, but there it was. Jordi had a point about him being alone, but the idea of moving in with someone again was… weird.

His apartment with Damien had been more of a lovenest than a residence, at least until Damien had gotten that divorce. Even then, with server racks and boxes of files packing the place, it hadn’t been a _home_. It had been a base of operations, Damien’s workspace, Aiden’s bolthole when shit hit the fan. It hadn’t been anything like Nicky’s house or the house he’d grown up in.

It hadn’t been anything like Jordi’s condo, always tidy with _something_ good cooking in the kitchen. Jordi’s place wasn’t homey, like his sister’s, but it was always _warm_ , holding all the intimacy and emotional honesty that Jordi himself wasn’t willing to show.

He’d stayed for a couple nights before, but a couple weeks? Months? Would they even be able to stand each other long enough to make it work? Was this another way for Jordi to test the waters, since he’d have to know _now_ before he jumped one way or another on being in their daughter’s life?

With a soft groan, he heaved himself up, using the sink for something to lean against. His stomach flopped, but there wasn’t anything left in it to object to. After a couple seconds upright, it settled down as much as it ever did these days.

“Why the fuck do you have so many sweaters?” Jordi asked as he came out, standing in Aiden’s closet with an expression of deep loathing.

“They’re warm, they’re comfortable, and they’re easy to clean. Why the fuck do you have so many suits, Jordi?” He made a quick sweep of the apartment, carefully prying a vent open and grabbing the explosives he’d stashed in it. Jordi had gotten all of his hidden guns, it seemed, and the gun safe was sitting open and empty in his closet.

“They’re classy, warmer than your fuckin’ sweaters, and _mine_ are lined with kevlar. Can’t say that about yours, smart ass.” Jordi huffed softly, then started pulling sweaters off their hangers and tossing them on the bed. “I don’t even know how many of these are going to keep fitting you.”

Aiden grunted, opening up a suitcase and starting to roll his clothes into it. His jeans were already too small, the button on them popped more often than not, and his stomach was barely rounded. Enough to notice, but not so much that people _should_. He didn’t want to think about buying new clothes. “I don’t know either. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“I’m picturing sundresses and yoga pants. Am I going to see you in yoga pants, Aiden?”

“Not on your fucking life, Jordi. In Chicago? In the fall?” Aiden shook his head. “Toss me some socks and underwear too, it’s all pants and shirts right now.”

“Hey, socks, that’s one thing you won’t grow out of.” Jordi lobbed a few rolled-up pairs to him, then plopped a stack of briefs on the bed.

“ _Thanks_. If you don’t watch it, I’ll start wearing your clothes and stretching them out. See how much you’ll be laughing then.” He folded the briefs between layers, stuffing the socks in some of the spots where his rolled-up clothes wouldn’t fit. Efficient packing was second nature to him now.

“You, in a suit? I’ll believe it when I see it. This should be enough for a couple weeks, we can come back and pack up everything else to move you out later.” Jordi set a few t-shirts down, then finished securing all of the guns in the duffel bag. 

Aiden snorted, shutting the top of his suitcase and zipping the whole thing up. As he straightened, Jordi’s hand caught his hip, tugging him into a sweet, soft kiss.

“Oh, ugh, why did I _do_ that,” Jordi said a second later, nose wrinkling as he pulled away.

“Yeah, I could’ve warned you that I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” Aiden said dryly, dropping a hand to squeeze Jordi’s where it was still wrapped around his waist. Jordi’s skin was warm against his palm and he soaked up that heat before shifting away to grab his suitcase.

“Are you allowed to carry that?” Thankfully, Jordi made no move to take it from him, swinging the duffel bag over his shoulder instead. Aiden gave the apartment one last look over, then rolled his eyes.

“I’m not an invalid, Jordi. Once I can stop throwing up every other hour, I’m going to try getting some of my muscle definition back—the only reason I stopped jogging is because the smell of the pavement made me sick.” He grabbed his phone off the floor, then pocketed his keys and wallet as he headed out the door. Jordi was on his heels, making sure the door locked behind them.

“You jog? That’s adorable. Do you have a tracksuit? Is it _color-coordinated_? Why am I even asking, I bet you run in a pair of shitty sweats.” Jordi took the lead, walking right past the sedan in Aiden’s spot to an old, beat-up muscle car. From experience, Aiden knew this was Jordi’s business car—he didn’t always keep the same one, but he made sure they all looked roughly the same so his condo wouldn’t throw a fit over the changing cars in his second parking space.

If they managed to stick it out for a few weeks, he’d look into getting his own sedan into the garage. His apartment was set up with a few hidden cameras—the only reason he hadn’t used them when Jordi broke in was because he’d left his phone in the kitchen—so he wasn’t worried about his computer or sentimental bits and bobs. The rent was set up on autopay and his lease didn’t expire until January. It could all sit for a bit while he was at Jordi’s.

And if it didn’t work out, he’d come back to his life and pull it back on like one of his old, comfortable sweaters.

He dumped his bag in the trunk as Jordi swung the duffel in next to it, then slammed the lid down and made his way to the passenger’s side. Aiden hated being a rider, not the driver, but Jordi hadn’t tossed him the keys—message received. Maybe he wanted to avoid a repeat of the parking lot incident.

“You know, you could come jogging with me,” he said as he settled in his chair, buckling in, “see the sweatpants for yourself. I don’t want to risk sparring, so it’s weight lifting and jogging for me going forward.”

“Huh, yeah, punching a pregnant guy probably isn’t a good look. I’m not a big _runner_ , though. It’s not stylish.” The engine roared underneath Jordi’s touch, the sound making Aiden’s fingers itch with the urge to grab the wheel.

“You _would_ care about that.” He dragged a hand down his face and sighed as Jordi pulled out onto the road and started back up towards the Mad Mile.

In truth, he wasn’t much of a runner either. He liked to explore the city, enjoyed going for rambling walks that ended up with him on rooftops and in restricted areas, but that wasn’t quite the same as _jogging_. Flat pavement didn’t hold near the appeal of a ledge at just the right height for an adult man to climb up. But he couldn’t risk the fall, and he _would_ fall—with his joints as wobbly as they were, and his balance shifting as the days went by, falling was almost guaranteed if he tried to jump the gap between buildings now. Usually the adrenaline would have made up for it but…

Not worth the risk. None of it was worth the risk. If he was keeping his daughter, and he _was_ , that meant sucking up all the discomforts that came with it. At least he’d quit cigarettes _before_ he’d found out he was pregnant, so he couldn’t resent her for that too.

Maybe the smell would have made him sick anyways. Almost everything fucking did these days.

His doctor’s appointment was tomorrow. Since Jordi had spilled the beans at the last one, he could just admit that he was still getting sick, and maybe they could solve this problem. And if he was staying at the condo, that meant Jordi would handle everything in the kitchen—where he seemed to be the most sensitive—and the balcony was high enough that Chicago’s various smells couldn’t reach him. God, he hoped the sickness went away soon.

Jordi rolled into the parking garage and started to climb, carefully angling his beast of a car around the tight turns, past the over-priced luxury cars packed in like sardines. His spots were close to the top, the Papavero surrounded by other high-speed foreign imports. It always made Aiden’s palms itch to see them, knowing just how much power was going to waste in the hands of millionaires with midlife crises who thought they were daring for going ten miles over the speed limit. These cars deserved better.

Once they were parked, he hefted his suitcase out of the back, letting Jordi snatch the bag of guns away from him with a snort. The trip up the elevator was silent other than Jordi’s soft muttering about getting Aiden a key, as if he didn’t already have one on his keychain. They separated in the condo, Jordi heading back towards his gun room while Aiden headed for the closet.

And then he was stuck, because there wasn’t really anywhere for him to put his clothes, and it was obvious how spur of the moment this had been. Jordi’s suits hung in regimented lines, the slacks folded underneath their respective jackets, his dozens of silk shirts neatly stacked on shelves opposite from them. Everything was perfectly ordered—shoes, socks, underwear in its own little drawer, the few heavier outercoats by the door and all of it color-coordinated in smooth gradients.

His bag was a drab, ugly thing sitting on the floor, his comfortable clothes just as drab and ugly as he felt looking at this. For all that Aiden wanted to stay, wanted _Jordi_ to keep wanting him, shit like this smacked him in the face with just how different they were. Painfully so.

He’d tried to overcome that level of difference before, with Damien, and look where that had gotten him. Would this time be any better? Or would he just lose everything again, worse this time because he’d see it coming?

God, he was a mess. Aiden left his bag on the floor and walked back to the bed, flopping backwards on it before rolling so that his face was mashed into Jordi’s pillow. There was a tight ball of despair caught in his throat, aching the way his chest ached like it was caught in a vice, his whole body stretched thin with how badly he wanted something he couldn’t have.

Jordi was Jordi was Jordi—asking him to be anything else was asking to be disappointed. And he was probably asking too much already, flying too close to that sun when Jordi had made it _abundantly_ clear what he thought of this whole thing. This was setting himself up for failure, and yet—he didn’t want to leave. He should. If he were smart, he would. But he _wanted_ Jordi to be different, to have one of those stupid, unrealistic Disney romances, where everything would be candy-flowers and talking animals and _perfect_ , even if it was just for a few weeks.

A few days. A few hours. Just long enough that he could convince himself he deserved something good for once.

He sucked in a slow, raggedy breath, Jordi’s scent wrapping around him, and squeezed his eyes shut. From behind him, there was a sigh, and then a warm, heavy hand resting on the back of his neck. The mattress sank under Jordi’s weight, soft thuds following him kicking off his shoes.

“Man, they are really not fucking kidding about those pregnancy hormones, huh?” Jordi said softly, fingers sliding up into Aiden’s hair. “Is this, like, ‘I saw a puppy so cute I couldn’t help it’ crying, or is it ‘you only have one turquoise shirt so it’s lonely’ crying?”

It was probably meant as a joke, but Aiden couldn’t tell if the noise he made in response was a laugh or a sob. Probably should have kicked his shoes off too, come to think of it, because he didn’t want to get out of bed now. “Neither?”

“Oh christ, you’re going to make me actually talk about this, aren’t you? Alright, if we’re doing feelings, I’m getting a glass of whiskey. You… take your clothes off, or put more on, or whatever your heart desires.” The bed creaked as Jordi hauled himself up and walked out of the room. The back of his neck felt cold with the loss of Jordi’s hand.

Aiden pushed himself up, thankful that at least the pillow was dry, then pulled his shoes off. His pants followed, because it wasn’t likely that he’d be going out again today, but he left his shirt on. By the time Jordi was back, he was leaning up against the headboard, legs half-curled underneath himself as he rubbed at his too-hot eyes.

Jordi set his glass of whiskey on the side-table and handed a mug of tea to him, shrugging out of his jacket as Aiden carefully sniffed the mug. It wasn’t mint, that was for damn sure. A sip confirmed that, the taste of ginger leaving his tongue tingling. His stomach didn’t reject it though, so he’d take that victory.

“I did some looking up, you know,” Jordi said, dumping his pants and shirt on top of the hamper along with the jacket. The thick muscles in his back and thighs flexed as he stripped off his undershirt, a reminder that he had nothing to hide underneath those suits of his. “Figured there had to be a reason this was kicking your ass as bad as it was, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Aiden said, trying to enjoy the show and hating that he knew he couldn’t match Jordi’s body right now.

“You quit smoking, what, a month ago? Month and a half?” It wasn’t the direction Aiden had expected this conversation to go, and he hated Jordi for that too—it was a stark reminder, like the glass of whiskey on the side table, of the shit he couldn’t have anymore.

“Uh-huh,” he said again, sipping at his tea instead of letting himself stew in resentment. Jesus christ, he’d been ready to have hysterics about Jordi leaving him not ten minutes ago. He needed to get his head on straight.

“Yeah, you ever think that maybe that could be a contributing factor?” Jordi flopped on the bed, stretching before settling in next to him. “Nausea. Shitty sleep. Emotional nutcase. I mean, really, if it weren’t for the pictures, I’d _still_ say it was quitting, not you being pregnant. Tea helping?”

It was. Aiden considered the mug with a frown, taking a deeper drink. Ginger had been on the list, but it had been lower down than everything else because he’d been skeptical. “Kicking my smoking habit isn’t the reason why I was about to cry, Jordi. It… might be a contributing factor though.”

“Yeah, thought so.” Jordi grinned, teeth bright and white, then let the expression fade to something a little more serious. “So. Talk to me. We’re gonna have to have this conversation eventually, and I’ve got liquor now. Might as well get it out in the open.”

He swallowed, feeling the way his eyes burned, then carefully set his tea down. Jordi’s bed was massive, big enough that he could sleep comfortably without ever touching him, but Aiden found himself moving closer instead. Because he wanted to touch, wanted to feel Jordi’s body pressed against his, wanted that ridiculous fairytale romance that he was afraid to say out loud. It was _stupid_. And yet.

“You were about to walk out on me a couple weeks ago,” Aiden said, splaying his fingers over his stomach, the thin cotton of his shirt loose enough to hide the bump that he knew was there. His daughter. “I put my suitcase in your closet and I realized that we were never—when we started fucking, you told me it was casual and this is pulling that rug out from under you. I can’t stop wondering when you’ll realize that too.”

“I thought you wanted me to stick around?” Jordi asked, a hint of frustration under the attempt at neutrality in his voice.

“It’s not fair. To you.” He wanted to cry, but it was ridiculous to cry over that, just like it was ridiculous to cry over the fact that there wasn’t room in Jordi’s closet for him. “I’m coming in here and throwing your whole life plan in the garbage just because I’m too much a coward to do this alone. Even though everyone is telling me not to do it in the first place. Christ, I’m an idiot.”

“So this _is_ ‘the turquoise shirt is lonely’,” Jordi muttered. Before he could respond, Jordi reached over and buried his fingers in Aiden’s hair, tugging him sideways until he was close enough to cuddle. “Okay. Look. We’re doing this. No take backsies. Am I _happy_ about doing this? Not fucking likely, because I don’t do the _family_ thing and I barely have enough emotions to pass around anyways, but you were right. When you said it wouldn’t matter if I was involved or if I wasn’t, you were right.”

Aiden breathed in, ignoring the way it caught in his throat like he wanted to sob. _Stupid_ of him to think it would be anything but that. He knew what he was getting into with Jordi.

“No, don’t look at me like that,” Jordi said, despite the fact that Aiden wasn’t looking at him at all. “If you don’t tell me how you’re feeling, I’m not gonna pick up on it. You _know_ this. But I’m not going to kick you out on the street, I’m _really_ not going to let you fend for yourself, and as long as I’m keeping you around, I figure I might as well keep enjoying the parts that made this all worthwhile in the first place. Jesus.”

“Right. Right,” he said, swallowing the tears and pulling out of Jordi’s grasp so he could tug his shirt off. If he was going to nap, and Aiden had the sneaking suspicion that Jordi was angling for that, he wasn’t doing it in his shirt. Since he’d already had a breakdown over the fucking _clothes_ , he figured he could save the breakdown over his lack of muscle definition for after he woke up. “Stay with me?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” With a roll of his eyes, Jordi grabbed his whiskey and downed the rest, setting the empty glass back down with exaggerated care. He lifted the covers, letting Aiden squirm under them before crawling under himself and curving himself around Aiden’s back.

It was the closest thing to normal Aiden had felt for weeks. He tugged a pillow up under his head, one that smelled overwhelmingly of Jordi, stretching his other arm out under the covers. Still too early in the afternoon to really sleep for long, but a nap wouldn’t kill him. Would probably do him some good, honestly, because he still wasn’t sleeping well.

Jordi’s hands slid over the slight swell of his stomach, warm and gentle, then higher up Aiden’s chest until his thumbs were dragging over the nubs of his oversensitive nipples. His belly wasn’t the only thing getting softer.

“Huh,” Jordi said, “these are new.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on this are about to slow down dramatically, because I've got a new job and it's really eating into my writing time.


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